


A Bonnie Life

by sunalso



Series: Sun Does MCU Kink Bingo 2018 [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Farmer/Heiress au, Happily Ever After, Pregnancy, Romance, Scotland, Sheep, draft horses, elopment, mid-1800s, steam engines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AU. Jemma's an English lady, used to having everything her heart desires, except someone who understands her. Fitz tends his sheep on a bucolic Scottish farm but dreams of a world where he's seen first for his mind, not his station. Neither of them were expecting to find love underneath a summer moon.  Marriage, babies, and all of life's twist and turns that can leave you somewhere very different then you expected to be, or right back where you started.A FitzSimmons AU romance, beta'd by Gort.





	1. Apparition

A/N: This fic is set in mid-1800s Scotland. I'm not an expert historian, and while Google is my friend, I am most likely going to get things wrong and have anachronisms in speech or historical details. I'm okay with that, as this is a place and time that exists mostly in imagination, but I do apologize in advance for any unintentional, or quite intentional, errors. 

**

Chapter 1: Apparition

 

The moon hung full and heavy over the open field.

Fitz sat on the ground, his back against a log and his feet stretched towards the small fire where water for a last cuppa was heating. There were a few soft bleats from the direction of the flock of sheep he was watching over, but as Toby, his trusty old sheepdog, was sleeping with his head on his paws, Fitz didn’t think there were any looming threats to his charges.

He’d inherited the small farmstead, situated amid the rolling Scottish countryside, when an uncle he’d never heard of passed on a few years back. Barely making ends meet for him and his mum working the docks in Glasgow, Fitz had been more than happy to try his hand at being a landowner.

It was bloody hard work, and while his mum did an excellent job of keeping house, raising chickens, and enjoying life outside the city, Fitz often wished that she didn’t have to do so much. Or that he wasn’t stuck outside watching over a flock of the stupidest animals ever to walk the earth. Maybe next year he’d be able to afford to pay some local lad to do it for him. Until then, it was up to Fitz to move them from pasture to pasture and make sure they stayed safe from an unfathomable list of possible injuries.

At least the long nights were only a little chilly this time of year. Nothing a thick sweater couldn’t handle, and it gave Fitz time to work on his designs.

Because while the sheep kept a roof over his head and food in the larder, Fitz’s real passion was engineering. Lately, he’d become obsessed with the miraculous technology of the locomotive. He’d written an old acquaintance of his mum’s and been sent several volumes on how steam engines functioned, and on his last trip to town, Fitz had been privileged to see one of the beasts pulled apart as it had malfunctioned and required maintenance. The employee of the railroad had been a kind chap that had enjoyed describing things to Fitz, once it became apparent that Fitz was well informed.

Now, in the quiet dark of an early summer night, Fitz had a journal open in his lap and a pencil in his hand, trying to figure out ways to make the huge engines work more efficiently, to travel further on less coal. Materials were certainly a problem. The pressure of the steam put a great deal of stress on the engine and—

There was a noise, something moving through the woods on the far edge of the field. Toby looked up and growled softly.

Fitz snapped his journal closed and shoved it into his knapsack. Picking up the old rifle he carried from where it leaned against the log, he swiftly loaded it, tamping down the bullet into place more forcefully than he intended as Toby rose to his feet. The dog was staring across the field, in the direction of the Simmons’ land. A thick copse of trees rose between what was his land and where the sprawling estate of Lord Simmons began. He’d never met them. They were English and the kind of snobs who wouldn’t bother to shake hands with a lowly farmer.

Luckily, the rest of his land was nowhere near their monstrosity of a country manor.

Toby trotted forward a few steps.

“What is it, boy?” Fitz whispered.

The night had become abnormally still. The sheep had hushed. No wind blew.

A loud crack and burst of sparks from the fire made Fitz jump. When he looked away from the flames again, his blood froze in his veins. A woman was running across the far side of the field, heading towards the creek that wound its way through a nearby hollow.

She made no sound. Her dark hair streamed behind her face, which was glowing palely in the moonlight. Around her floated a stark white dress. She looked ethereal.

Toby whined, and his tail wagged.

Fitz frowned at him, then at the girl.

“You see her too, Toby? I’m not going off my rocker?” Fitz was worried he’d been out with his sheep too long. Perhaps his mind was conjuring up phantoms. Beautiful ones. Maybe his mum was right, and he did need a wife.

Or it was an actual phantom. A figure from beyond. A very nice figure from beyond.  

“Bollocks,” Fitz swore. He set his rifle down and trotted around his sleeping flock, who paid him no mind at all. He whistled to Toby to stay and watch the sheep, and the dog planted his rear on the ground as Fitz continued towards the girl. She disappeared down the hillside that led to the creek. He paused at the top of the same hill. Below him, the water gurgled as it passed over rocks and fallen tree limbs. There was another sound as well. It took him a moment to recognize it. Someone was crying.

He really hoped the girl wasn't a phantom as he made his way down the hill and through the trees that bordered the stream. A real girl he could pass a handkerchief to, but if she wasn't, he had no clue what the proper etiquette would be.

The girl was lying on the soft grass beside the creek. She was stretched out on her stomach, her dress draped over the ground, and she was sobbing with her face resting on her folded arms.

Fitz gaped. The outline of her legs was clearly visible, even through the layers of gauzy fabric that made up her dress, and she’d kicked off her shoes, leaving her stocking-clad feet and ankles peeking out from under her frock.

Heat suffused his cheeks. The poor girl probably wouldn’t appreciate him spying on her in her state of dishabille. “Miss,” Fitz said.

The girl’s shoulders froze, and then she rolled over and scrambled backwards until her back met the trunk of a tree. Her dark eyes were wide and luminous above cheeks wet with tears.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to smile. He sat down and fished a clean handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her.

She looked at it for a moment, then reached out and took it from him. The tips of their fingers brushed, and a jolt ran up his arm, making him suck in a startled breath. But she’d felt solid, so was unlikely to be a banshee or some such similar nonsense. He wasn’t willing to rule out her being one of the little people. She was certainly beautiful enough to charm anyone she met.

“Thank you,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “I didn’t think anyone would see me out here.”

“Oh, um…my sheep,” he said, jerking his thumb back towards the field. She was English. That was unexpected. She must have come from the Simmons’ household.

The girl nodded and hung her head.

“My name’s Fitz. I’ve got my dog watching the flock, so if you need help—”

“I don’t need help,” she said, voice cold.

“Sorry,” he said again. Drat, somehow he’d already mucked things up, and he didn’t even know the girl’s name.

****

Jemma felt terrible as she watched the farmer’s eyes skitter away from hers. He was just being kind. It wasn’t his fault she’d run out here to be alone and have a good cry. It was simply that she’d already spent a great deal of the evening pretending to be pleasant and nice and all that had gotten her was an unwanted, terrible kiss and a smug proposal of marriage that she’d turned down. Which had resulted in her mother weeping and her father yelling at her.

How was she supposed to know that she was expected to meekly accept because her father and Ward’s father had already made some real estate deal and her body was the price?

She wouldn’t marry Ward or bear his children. He didn’t care about her as anything except a broodmare. Ward had scoffed at what he called her scribblings. And she’d seen him whip horses and dogs for not instantly obeying his whims. Why should she expect any better treatment?

Now here was another man intruding on her.

“I’m sorry to sound so rude. I simply wish to be alone,” Jemma said.

Fitz’s lips thinned. “But you’re crying.”

“That hardly signifies anything about my desire to not be bothered.”

“Right, of course not. I’ll be up at my fire if you need anything.”

He rose, inclined his head at her, and walked back up the hill and out of sight.

It hadn’t been what she’d been expecting at all. The night suddenly seemed much darker and colder. The farmer, Fitz, had looked at her with such kind eyes.

And rather a handsome face, hidden under what had to be only a few days’ worth of stubble. Fitz’s curly hair had looked barely manageable, and his lips—

Jemma stopped herself. Why was she thinking about the lips of a man she’d just met? It was just…she didn’t think she’d mind so much if they were against her own. Not like she had the unexpected kiss from Ward earlier that evening.

Oh dear, had Ward’s kiss done something to her? Was she now wanton?

Surely not, something as disgusting as Ward’s mouth wouldn’t make any woman crave a man of any ilk. And crying under a tree wasn’t helping anything. Maybe this Fitz fellow would be a decent sort to talk to. He never had to know she was having such forward thoughts as kissing him. And while her mother would faint if she knew Jemma was spending time with a man without a chaperone, and a lower-class man at that, well, what her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Also, it was cold and her fancy gown, which she’d been so proud of when she’d come downstairs for the dance, was not doing much to keep her warm and a fire sounded delightful.

Standing, Jemma wiped the tears from her face, slid her shoes back on, and made her way up the hill. As she walked towards the sheep and the glow of the fire on the other side of them, a piebald dog trotted over to her. He bumped against her leg and wagged his tail, making her smile. “Hello to you too,” she said, leaning down to scratch his ears.

“Never seen Toby take to someone like that,” Fitz said. He was standing in the circle of light from his fire, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He must be an excellent judge of character.”

Fitz raised an eyebrow, but then the corner of his mouth drew up. He dropped his arm and used it to indicate the small camp he had set up. “It’s not much, but if you care to join me, I was about to have a cup of tea. Though I’m afraid there’s not much to put in it.”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” Feeling very bold, she made her way to the log Fitz was obviously using as a backrest and sank down to the ground, carefully arranging her skirt. “My name’s Jemma, and I greatly appreciate your hospitality. I apologize for earlier. I’ve had somewhat of a rotten night.”

“Jemma,” Fitz said, and she was glad his back was to her as he bent and removed the kettle from the fire because there was a rush of heat to her cheeks simply over how her name had sounded coming from her lips.

He fixed her a mug in a tin cup along with a second one for himself. He sat beside her.

“Do you want to talk about what sent you running pell-mell into the night?” he asked.

For saying Fitz wasn’t all that tall, he seemed to take up a lot of room. Or maybe she was just more aware than usual of the space he filled. It was disconcerting. In the firelight she could see his kind, worried eyes were blue. She wondered what they would look like in sunlight.

“Well…I was kissed for the first time.”

Fitz was taking a sip of his tea, and it must have gone down wrong because he started coughing. After a few seconds, he got control of himself and cleared his throat. “Was it that bad you needed to run away?”

“It was terrible, but no, that wasn’t the problem. It was the beastly man who did it, before asking for my hand in marriage.”

“What did you say?” Fitz was leaning forward. She blew on the top of her tea to cool it, and his eyes darted down for a moment to her mouth before returning to hers.

“I refused. He’s not the sort to appreciate a woman who has a brain.”

“Ah,” Fitz said. He took another drink, this time managing not to choke.

Jemma looked into the liquid swirling in her cup. “It was my parents who made me flee. They’d expected me to say yes, and I think there was a great deal of financial agreements dependent on that. Now I’ve disappointed them, and they let me know it.” She took a drink. It wasn’t at all what she was used to, but she didn’t mind.

“That’s terrible,” Fitz said, frowning. “No one should have to marry someone they don’t want to.” He paused, and then his face fell. “Wait, your parents…you’re Jemma…Simmons?”

She nodded.

Fitz didn’t seem to know what to do. He looked away from her and scooted further down the log like he didn’t want to be breathing the same air she was. It made something in her chest ache.

Jemma sighed. “Sorry, I can’t change that.” She set her mug down and dropped her face into her hands.

“I suppose not,” Fitz said. She peeked through her fingers and found him pulling a notebook from his bag. He flipped it open and busied himself with the nub of a pencil, adding to something he was writing in the book and then tapping the pencil against his lips.

Which made her stomach feel odd and flighty for some strange reason.

She retrieved her tea, drinking it slowly.

Fitz seemed very intent on what he was doing, but there was a moment when she could tell he went from using the notebook as a way to not have to engage her to him being truly lost in his work. Intrigued, she scooted over, trying to see over his shoulder.

It appeared to be sketches and notes on locomotive engines.

Certainly not what she had thought a farmer would be interested in.

Jemma was nearly pressed right up against his side. It broke all kind of rules of propriety, but she found she didn’t care. Fitz was fascinating, full of contradictions, and Jemma wanted to know more about him.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

Startled, Fitz looked up at her, then seemed to figure out just how close she was. He looked around like he was thinking about getting up. She put a hand on his arm, and his eyes fixed on the contact. Through his sleeve, she could feel the heat of his arm, and it made her glad she’d left her gloves back in her room.

“Um,” he started, but then closed the notebook and hastily shoved it back in his bag. He picked up his tea and gulped it down.

Jemma was perplexed, then angry. She should have known he’d be like the rest. Letting go of him, she crossed her arms. “What?” she snapped. “Because I’m a girl do you think I won’t understand?”

Fitz turned towards her, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb. I can’t help my gender, but simply because I was made female does not mean I’m incapable of learning things or applying that knowledge.”

Fitz shook his head. He set his empty cup down. “No, Jemma, that’s not…not it at all.” He still looked like a spooked horse, one that might bolt at any second.

“That what is it?”

“They’re just half-formed ideas. Things I’ve thought about that might make the engines runner better, or smoother. But what to do I know? I’m just a sheep farmer.” He hung his head, and Jemma let out a long sigh.

“I wasn’t—” she started, then stopped. They were having the same problem. She giggled, and Fitz tilted his head to look at her as his nose wrinkled up. “We’re both making the same assumption, aren’t we?” she said ruefully. “I’m assuming you think less of me because of my gender, and you’re assuming I think less of you because of your station.”

The corner of Fitz’s mouth turned up.

“Please let me see your work. I promise I won’t be condescending.”

“Alright,” he said. He removed the journal from his bag and only briefly hesitated before handing it to Jemma. She flipped the pages open. The writing and intricate drawings were neatly done. She’d scarce seen better in Royal Society papers. Carefully, she examined each illustration and the collection of notes he’d made.

“Fitz,” she breathed. “This is excellent.”

“Oh.” He scratched his chin.

The last page had to do with the pressure of the boilers. There were multiple places where he’d written questions marks, and it quickly became apparent that what he was missing was knowledge of gas volumes and pressures and exactly how the two were interrelated.

“May I show you something?” she asked holding her hand out for his pencil. He surrendered it, and she pulled her knees up under her skirt to give her something to brace the journal against. “What you need to know to help with your problems with the boiler are some of the equations dealing with gasses, especially how they act under pressure.” She wrote out equations from Clapeyron’s work, defining the variables and constants below them so he’d have a reference later.

There was a line between Fitz’s brow. “Do you think that there’s a way to account for this while combining it with knowledge of the materials involved?” he asked.

Jemma didn’t think she’d ever grinned so widely before. It was the kind of conversation she was aching to have and that she was routinely shut out of because she was wearing a dress.

“I’m certain of it,” she said. “My own work, at least what I’m allowed, leans towards biological systems, but I think some of the theory could be applied here as well.”

Fitz’s hand landed on her knee, and his other arm stretched behind her as he turned fully towards her. Jemma found herself quite breathless. It must be because no one had treated her like an equal before. It was exhilarating.

****

Fitz had never met someone like Jemma.

He’d been terrified when he’d discovered she was the Simmons’ daughter, but he’d forgotten why now. Jemma was brilliant. Her mind moved as quick as his, and he could jump from idea to idea with no worry she’d be confused.

It felt like he was free to be himself for the first time.

He realized the warmth in his chest was probably dangerous, but he was unable to stop himself from curling around her as they discussed first his ideas, and then hers. With trembling fingers he’d brush her hair behind her ear when it fell between them, marveling that nature had seen fit to make such an amazing creature as her.

Eventually, she yawned. “I apologize,” she said, covering her mouth. “You’re not tiresome. I’m simply fatigued after such a long day.”

Fitz wanted nothing more than to lay down beside her, his arm around her, so they could rest and then return to their conversation in the morning. She was mesmerizing, and he fervently wished he was part of the world she inhabited. That he could don a smart suit and show up at her door with flowers to court her.

There would never be enough time in all of eternity for him to become tired of her. But when he thought of her huge house and that she had so many dresses that getting mud and grass on one didn’t matter, while all he had to offer was a small and worn cottage, a few acres, and a flock of sheep…Fitz knew it was hopeless.

He’d have to hoard these minutes by her side in his memory as if he’d been visited by an angel.

“I think you should get home,” he said softly.

Jemma frowned but didn’t argue. “I should. My parents will be frantic.”

Reluctantly, he stood and helped Jemma to her feet.

“Thank you for your hospitality and company,” she said.

He sketched a bow. “The pleasure was all mine.” He had to ask. “You won’t marry this bloke that has you fleeing into the weeds, will you?”

Jemma shook her head. “Can’t, now.” Fitz didn’t know why not, but he didn’t want to pry.

“Shall I walk you?”

She shook her head. “I know the way, and I don’t want a servant finding us together.”

He looked down. Of course she wouldn’t.

“Fitz,” Jemma said, moving until she was right in front of him. “How long will you be here with your flock?”

“Just got to this pasture today,” he said, trying to tamp down the flare of hope inside him. “So most likely it’ll be at least a week, maybe two.” The grass was green and thick and growing near as fast as the sheep could graze, there was no reason to move on too fast.

Jemma put her hand on his elbow. “Can I see you tomorrow, then? I’ll sneak some food from the kitchen. We can have a late supper and talk more about your engine ideas and my theories about pressure in the heart valves of equines?”

His smile made his cheeks ache. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

She grinned as well. Fitz though his feet might have left the ground. Jemma wanted to see him again.

She bit her lip. “I have one more thing, Fitz,” she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

“What’s that?” He met her gaze and leaned forward slightly. Any idea of hers was dazzling.

“Well, I’m working on a theory.”

“About?” His fingers flexed. Anticipation was winding through him and making him giddy.

“Well, see today, when Ward kissed me it was disgusting,” Jemma said. Fitz grimaced. Not what he’d been hoping for. “Wet, vile, his tongue tasted like overcooked onions.” Fitz sighed. What a charming mental image. “I thought there must be something wrong with me,” Jemma continued. “Because girls are always twittering to each other about boys kissing them, and here I was revolted.”

“Uh,” Fitz said, not sure exactly what she wanted from him.

“I’d concluded that kissing was something terrible, but now I think my sample size was too small and I shouldn’t have decided that from a single kiss.” She was looking at him from under her lashes. “I think I need further experimentation.”

Fitz stopped breathing as Jemma stepped closer to him and molded her body to his, ending up with her mouth against his lips.

For a moment he was lost.

Jemma was kissing him.

But then something primal stirred in his belly, and he was kissing her back. He tangled a hand in her hair, and the other landed on her hip, gripping her fiercely.

She moaned, and the tip of her tongue brushed his lips. It made him shudder as he opened his mouth further and boldly stroked her tongue with his. She whimpered and fisted her hands into his shirt.

Dear lord, he was going to drown in her. Or go up like a bonfire.

Her lips were silky smooth, and she tasted of herself and tea. The faint sounds of their mouths moving together were tantalizing.

They broke apart, both panting, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “Jemma,” he said, voice ragged.

She let go of him and took a step back. He looked up to find her grinning widely. “I love it when I’m right,” she said.

He felt rooted to the spot, even as his knees threatened to give out. His heart was thudding in his chest, each beat now dedicated to her. “Jemma,” he whispered again.

She took another step back, still grinning, and raised a hand to wave at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fitz.” She turned and hurried towards the far side of the field. Toby kept her company until she was past the flock, then sat down and watched her retreat until she’d disappeared among the trees.

Fitz walked to his bedroll and collapsed onto his back, staring up at the bright moon and vast expanse of stars.

He laughed to himself, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

It had been the best night of his life, and tomorrow held the promise of even more wonders.

The constellations wheeled overhead, and he laughed again. Toby came over and licked his face. “Magnificent, isn’t she boy?” he asked the sheepdog, who was nosing his hand and looking to be scratched. “Utterly magnificent.”     

 


	2. Discovery

Jemma had snuck back into the house through the side door and into her bed without a soul seeing her. That had been a minor miracle as the house had been blazing with lights when she’d returned. She expected someone would eventually check her room and find her in bed and the household would be allowed to rest.

She’d been so worn out that she’d fallen asleep nearly immediately.

The morning found her unwilling to get up. She’d rather stay where she was, thinking of a certain someone.

Stretching, she sat up and assessed the light coming through the window. It appeared to not be as late as she’d feared. Peeking over the counterpane, she saw her soiled dress was missing from the chair she’d draped it over, which meant that Bobbi, her maid, knew she was home.

Jemma flopped back on the mattress and giggled to herself as she traced her fingers over her lips. She couldn’t believe she’d kissed Fitz. She could never have imagined that the single most interesting person she’d ever met was a Scottish sheep farmer.

She sighed as she remembered how his eyes had glinted in the firelight as he smiled.

Jemma felt so light she was surprised she wasn’t floating above her bed. She giggled again.

“And where were you last night?” her maid’s voice rang out from the foot of the bed.

Jemma groaned and sat up again. “I needed to go have a moment alone and a good cry after that disaster. I upset my parents terribly, and you know how I hate disappointing them.”

Bobbi, her blonde hair swept up into a bun and her black dress and white apron immaculate, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t try that with me. So far, you’ve sighed and giggled more times than I’ve heard you do in a month of Sundays. Do tell me who the paragon is that could turn your head.”

“What a ridiculous phrase,” Jemma muttered.

Bobbi’s eyes narrowed.

“And you know me. I’m not the kind—”

“Giggling.”

“Oh, fine,” Jemma snapped. “I didn’t know there’d be anyone out where I went to have a sob. He was there tending sheep.”

Bobbi’s mouth fell open. “Sheep?” she said weakly.

Jemma tossed the covers back and gathered up the skirt of her nightgown as she walked on her knees towards Bobbi.

“He’s ever so kind and clever. He has this notebook just full of technical drawings and ideas about locomotives, but he needs some knowledge of ideal gas laws and the like, so I explained a few equations to him, and he grasped the concepts immediately and could apply it to what he was working on—”

Bobbi held up her hands. “Are you telling me this farmer understands half of what comes out of your mouth?”

Jemma frowned. “Half? A great deal more than that.” Where’d Bobbi gotten half from?

“And what was the color of his eyes?”

“Oh, blue. Somewhat hard to tell because there was only firelight, but I think much more like the sky than a lake.”

Bobbi laughed. She had to brace her hand against one post off the bed to keep from falling over in her mirth.

“I don’t see what’s funny,” Jemma grumbled.

Bobbi wiped her eyes. “Well, Jemma, I’d begun to think you’d never find a young man that would strike your fancy. Though I wish he was one you could see again.”

“But I am going to see him again, tonight.” 

Jemma slid off the bed and went to the porcelain wash basin to wipe her face.

Bobbi sighed. “You know that’s impossible. He’s far below your station. Your parents would never approve.”

“But—” Jemma felt like the room was closing in around her. It became hard to breathe. “I am going to see him tonight.” She turned around to face Bobbie. “I have to.”

“Now be reasonable. You know you can’t.”

Jemma’s chest tightened. “No. I…I don’t care. It shouldn’t matter what I must and mustn’t do. I am going to see him tonight.” She knew she was. It was inevitable as the sun rising. She was going to see Fitz again.

“Well—” Bobbi huffed. “I already covered for you with your parents and said you’d been hiding in a cupboard. I whisked your dress away before anyone else could see it. And now I know you were alone with a common farmer for hours. Your reputation would be ruined if anyone found out.”

Jemma stood tall, her chin up. “Then let it be ruined.” She walked on shaky legs over to her vanity and sat on the bench. Bobbi stood behind her, picked up a brush, and began smoothing Jemma’s wayward locks.

Bobbie worked in silence for long moments. “Did you bed your young man with the sky-blue eyes?” she finally asked.

Jemma’s cheeks burned. She’d studied natural sciences too long not to know what Bobbi was inferring. “No, he was well behaved. I might have…there was kissing. But only a tiny amount. Hardly any.”

“And now you want to see him again.”

“And now I will see him again.”

Bobbi yanked on Jemma’s hair harder than Jemma thought was necessary. “I wish I could dissuade you, but I don’t exactly have a leg to stand on now do I?”

Jemma raised her eyes to meet Bobbi’s in the mirror. A slow smile spread over Jemma’s face.

“Hunter is most certainly not exemplary,” she said. Bobbi’s husband, who her parents didn’t know existed, was sometimes around and sometimes not, and always trouble. Jemma had lied to cover for Bobbi being late or absent more than once when she’d spent time with him.

Hope bloomed in Jemma’s chest. Bobbi must be offering her the same in return. With a cry, Jemma surged to her feet and spun around the bench to hug Bobbi. “Does this mean you’ll help me? So I can go see Fitz?”

Bobbi untangled herself from Jemma’s arms. “Ah, this farmer has a name, does he?”

“You didn’t answer.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Yes, I guess that’s what I’m saying. Which is something I’ll probably live to regret. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy. I’d ask if you truly thought this Fitz was worth it—”

“But you married Hunter. You’re a terrible judge of character.”

Bobbi scoffed and went to the wardrobe to pick out a dress for Jemma. She pulled out a light green one. “This for today, I think, but when you retire after dinner I’ll help you change into something darker so you’ll blend in and there’ll be less a chance of you getting caught.”

Excitement bubbled inside Jemma. She was going to see Fitz again. “Thank you, Bobbi, thank you.”

The rest of the day went far too slowly. Jemma had to endure an endless tirade from her parents about her thoughtlessness for running and hiding the night before like petulant child, as well as for refusing Ward’s offer of marriage and seriously jeopardizing business relations between her father and Ward’s guardian.

At least Ward was absent, having refused to help search for her and riding for Edinburgh.

Jemma remained silent with her eyes downcast through all of it. And while her ears might have to suffer through the harsh words, her mind was busy examining every detail of her time with Fitz. Surely he couldn’t be quite so amazing as she thought, could he?

In the afternoon, Jemma took a bag to the library and went through piles of books and articles, searching for ones Fitz might find interesting. The library was nothing compared to the one in the family’s London house, but she found herself very aware that for a poor farmer, this room would be magical.

Before dinner, Jemma claimed a headache, and her mother sent her upstairs under Bobbi’s care. It was highly unlikely Jemma’s mother would check on her for the rest of the evening. As twilight approached, Jemma changed from her green dress to the black one Bobbi had left draped over a chair in Jemma’s room. It was soft and the material more supple than the dresses Jemma usually wore. In a fit of pique, she undid her corset and tossed it away. It felt scandalous to be in only her shift, knickers, stockings and dress, but she could breathe easier.

Bobbi had left a basket filled with food—quite a bit more than Jemma thought was required for two people—and Jemma found herself laden down with food and books as she slipped down the back stairs of the west wing and out the side door. But her heart was so light it made up for everything she was carrying.

****

Fitz cursed the sun as it sank towards the horizon. It’d been moving too bloody slow the entire day.

In the morning, Toby had stuck his nose in Fitz’s face, waking him and leading him to a lamb that’d gotten caught in a briar patch. It’d been torture getting the bleating idiot animal out, and afterwards Fitz had been mud-streaked and pouring sweat.

Not how he wanted to greet an upper-class lady.

Jemma would be back. Fitz refused to believe anything else.

Holding firm to that conviction, he ended up stripping down and rinsing the dirt off in the creek. He cleaned his clothes as best he could as well, laying them out to dry in the sun as he attempted to trim his beard with nothing but his knife and no mirror. A sturdy twig with a couple of forking branches made a not very effective comb, but he did neaten his wayward curls as much as it allowed.

When he redressed in his threadbare brown pants, linen shirt and green jacket, the quality of his clothing made him feel every inch the nothing that he was. He tied his red bandana back around his throat and tried to not let everything remind him of how far beneath Jemma he was.

It was driving him mad.

When twilight bloomed, he started pacing. He couldn’t squash the hope of seeing her again. His campfire blazed brightly, and he had water in his kettle, ready to go in the coals as soon as she arrived.

Toby was the first to notice. The dog rose from where he’d been lying and padded towards the far side of the field. The flock paid the dog no mind as he trotted past.

Fitz’s heart leapt into his throat and beat wildly.

He wasn’t ready. He slid his hands through his hair, hardly able to breathe.

Jemma walked out of the trees and Toby barked excitedly, running and jumping around her legs. She smiled at the dog, then looked up, right at Fitz.

She was radiant.

Fitz couldn’t wait. He sprinted towards her.

Jemma dropped the basket and bag she was carryng just in time for him to crash into her. She was real and solid in his arms as he picked her up and swung her in a circle. She grasped his shoulders and squealed in what sounded like delight.

He was dizzy with spinning and the scent and feel and sight of her. Stumbling to a stop, he let her slide down along his body until she was on her feet again. They were both panting, and anything Fitz had been planning to say flew right out of his head as Jemma grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss.

She whimpered as his tongue sought hers. She was as sweet as he remembered, and every contour of her mouth was spectacular and something worth remembering.

At last, he had to pull back and catch his breath but remained with his forehead pressed to hers.

“Hello,” she whispered.

“Jemma,” he said. “Jemma.”

She laughed and cupped his cheek with a soft hand.  

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said. He hardly believed it anyway, even with his arms wrapped around her.

“Of course I did.” Her hold tightened on him as if he was the one who might disappear.  Then she gave a little cry and pushed him back. “The food! Toby!”

Sure enough, Toby was pawing at the basket Jemma had brought. The dog looked up at them and cocked his head to the side.

“Leave it be, boy,” Fitz called and Toby, looking very dejected, rambled off towards the flock.

Jemma retrieved the basket, and Fitz picked up the bag she’d been carrying. It weighed a ton. “What do you have in here? Bricks?” he asked.

“Presents!” she said.

He frowned at the bag. “Someone gave you bricks?”

She was walking ahead, but turned around and made a face at him. “Presents for you, Fitz.”

“For me?”

He was stunned.

She sat down with her back against the log and patted the ground beside her. He sank down, and she opened the bag. “Yes, Fitz…” Jemma trailed off. “Oh dear, that’s not your first name, is it?”

He shook his head. “It’s Leo, well, Leopold, but—” he wrinkled his nose “—just Fitz, please.”

“Leopold Fitz,” she murmured. It was the first time he didn’t think he minded how his bloody awful first name sounded. Jemma looked down as she rummaged through the bag. “Well, just Fitz, I brought you presents.” Grinning triumphantly, she pulled out a thick book and handed it to him. He opened the plain cover and gasped. It was a book on mathematical concepts. He quickly flipped through the pages. There were equations and proofs and…

“Thank you,” he said, voice hoarse. “Thank you, Jemma.” He had to stop and pinch the bridge of his nose as emotions too big for him to name washed through him.

“There’s one on physics as well.” Jemma pulled another volume out of the bag. “And this one’s about mechanics and engines. I think it might be somewhat behind the current state of things, but it was the only one I could find. And there are several bound articles from the Royal Society I thought you might find interesting and some more pencils. You can keep the bag too, it’s oilcloth and should keep the damp out.”

Fitz was completely overwhelmed. His mind was skipping from topic to topic, he had so many questions, and he wanted to kiss her again, and…his stomach rumbled. There was never quite enough to eat when he was out in a pasture, and he’d been too nervous earlier to make much and had settled for dried fruit and a hunk of bread.

Jemma smiled and stashed the books and papers back in the bag. “Hungry?” she asked as his stomach growled again.

“Very.”

****

Jemma had thought Bobbi had packed enough roast beef, cheese, bread, and vegetables for a small army. It turned out to be just enough to feed Jemma and one Scots farmer, who wolfed everything down fast enough that she wasn’t sure he had time to taste any of it.

What she ate was delicious, and she snuck a few bites of her meat to Toby, who’d lain down beside her when the food had appeared.

Dessert was berries cooked into flaky pie dough, and the look on Fitz’s face when he took a bite was wonderous. Jemma only had room for a few bites of hers, but Fitz had no problem finishing it off for her.

“Those were amazing,” he said, licking at where the sticky juice from the berries hand run down his hand.

Jemma knew she should respond, but she couldn’t stop staring, and he sucked the tips of his fingers one after the other into his mouth. Her belly was full of heat, and her pulse was loud in her ears.

“Jemma?” he asked, frowning at her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Everything alright?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Yes, quite.” What would his tongue taste like mixed with the tartness of the berries? She blinked. “Um, perhaps we could look at one of the new papers that came in the post a few days ago? I’d set it aside because it was something to do with heat and engines and that is not one of my preferred areas of interest.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Fitz said, and for a moment, she was worried he was going to cry. Though she thought if she had never had access to things to keep her mind occupied, she might be rather choked up about being able to explore ideas as well.

Article in hand, she rearranged the basket and bag and, feeling a little shy, she scooted over until she was pressed against Fitz’s side and could lean her head on his shoulder as they read through the article together. He was quiet until they reached the section where the author began drawing conclusions.

Fitz made a sound very close to a growl. “This lout is a bloody ninny. He should clearly be able to see…I mean it’s right there in his data!” Fitz’s hand curled into a fist, and he punched the ground. “This is wrong!”

“I agree, the logical leaps are preposterous.”

Fitz snorted in clear frustration. “It’s…I know it’s not correct, but I can’t entirely state why.”

Jemma gently wiggled the article from his grip. “You need the math. The books I brought should help.” Her heart was breaking for him. By accident of his birth, the brightest mind she’d ever met was tending sheep in a field instead of arguing his views at Oxford. Though didn’t she understand that all too well? Being female left her at a very large disadvantage when it came to pursuits of the mind.

She stashed the paper away and rose up onto her knees, shuffling around to face Fitz. He was scowling, his eyes downcast.

“Even if I did work out a correction,” he said bitterly. “It’s not like anyone would ever listen to me.”

She put a hand on his cheek, pressing slightly until his gaze rose to meet hers. “Or me,” she said. “I wear petticoats. Therefore, I have no seat at any academic table.”

Fitz’s brow furrowed. “That’s…it’s not fair. Jemma, I’ve known you only two nights, and that’s enough for me to suss out that you’re brilliant. You’d certainly put the dullard that wrote that article to shame.”

“Being a girl means I’m not much welcome where things like that are being discussed.”

“I like that you’re a girl,” Fitz blurted. Immediately his face flushed. “Er—”

Leaning forward, Jemma cut him off with a kiss. He made her rather glad to be a girl as well. Which was entirely novel.

Fitz’s arms went around her, and their tongues spiraled together. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer.

With a grunt, and while his mouth never left hers, he somehow bowled her over.  Jemma ended up on her back with Fitz lying half on top of her. Which felt much better than she would have guessed. Especially without her corset. Her breasts ached, and she arched her back to press them against Fitz’s chest.

Oh, that was nice.

She whimpered, and Fitz answered with a moan. Jemma’s skin felt flushed and more sensitive than she could remember it ever being. Fitz dragged a hand down her side, his thumb grazing the side of her breast before continuing, and it was as if his touch was leaving behind a trail of fire. He clasped her hip and groaned into her mouth.

“Jemma,” he murmured. She’d never get tired of hearing him say her name. Now it sounded almost like a prayer. She also couldn’t imagine ever being complacent about the way he kissed her. Reverently and desperate at the same time.

All the stupid, ridiculous poetry about romance her tutor had made her read that she hadn’t cared a whit for because all she’d wanted to do was study natural sciences…all those words suddenly made sense.

Her heart was beating frantically.

Fitz groaned her name again and his hips bucked against her. A fresh wave of heat spread through her belly, but then Fitz was gone, hastening backwards to sit against the log with his knees pulled up as he panted.

“Sorry,” he squeaked.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. Beside her, the fire crackled, and the smell of the smoke hung heavy in the hair.

“Um.” Fitz ran a hand through his hair. “It’s, ah, getting late. Probably high time you were heading home.”

Jemma felt a little lost, especially because Fitz seemed to be dismissing her, even as his eyes remained on her face.

“I probably should,” she said, not wanting to argue. She gathered her basket and stood, but Fitz remained where he was. He looked vulnerable and like a spooked horse. “Will you still be here tomorrow?” she asked.

He nodded vigorously. “You’ll come again?”

“If you want me to.”

“More than anything.” He remained stubbornly sitting against the log, his arms now around his knees.

She waved, then picked her way across the field. There were a fair few sheep droppings to avoid. Toby trotted beside her, and just before she entered the trees she raised her hand again, and this time Fitz returned the gesture from where he sat. Toby yipped and planted his butt on the ground.  She gave him a quick pat goodbye.

Jemma walked towards her house, puzzling over what had happened. She’d been lost in Fitz’s kisses until he’d abruptly ceased them and pushed away from her. She ran her actions over in her head but didn’t think she’d done anything untoward. Fitz had pressed their bodies together and then—

She had to stop walking and put a hand over her mouth as she figured it out. After all, she was a student of nature and was very familiar with how animals copulated. And she’d seen anatomical drawings in books, if not an actual naked man before. It was obvious to her what had happened. Fitz had become aroused and subsequently unsure if him pushing his…erection against her would be welcome. And he’d probably been too embarrassed to ask.

Jemma trembled, and her legs were shaky when she started walking again. She didn’t know what it said about her that such a liberty on his part would not be unwelcome at all. Though she had only the vaguest sense of how human sexual acts happened. There were some books in the library on a high shelf she’d been forbidden to read, perhaps it was time she ignored that order and did some research. All kinds of research.

Her breasts were aching again.

All the animals she’d seen in coitus had involved the male being behind the female. Was that how it was done? Stallions often bit a mare’s neck during the act, to keep her in place, one could suppose.

Completely unbidden the image of Fitz, unclothed and on his knees behind her took over her mind. She could almost feel his arms wrapped around her middle and the feel of his teeth clamping onto the nape of her neck as he—

Jemma gasped, trying to suck air into lungs that didn’t seem interested in functioning.

Oh dear, how was she supposed to look him in the eye after having such thoughts?

She wouldn’t have to meet his gaze if he was behind her.

Jemma cursed herself and then giggled. Tomorrow, Fitz was going to be in for quite the surprise.

Her entire life, Jemma had followed the rules and done what she’d been told, but as of this very moment, she decided that she would choose Fitz to experience these sort of things with, if he agreed. Then no matter what happened in the future, she would always be able to remember that her first time had been with someone she chose and who she—

Her heart fluttered.

Jemma could hardly even contain an emotion like that. She’d tuck it away for later. Right now, it was the morrow she wanted to think about, and all the wonders she’d be discovering.


	3. Sweetheart

Fitz had started to hate the sun. It had stubbornly spent long hours trailing across the sky. He’d tried to waste time by carefully inspecting every member of his flock, with a little help from Toby, to make sure they were well, but that hadn’t taken up as nearly as much of the day as he’d hoped it would.

He’d attempted a nap, but all that had done was given him time to remember Jemma’s lips, and hands, and—Christ’s blood—the way her soft breasts had felt against his chest. He’d gotten so carried away that he’d nearly ended up rutting against the Simmons’ family daughter. A lady. The kind he’d have to doff his cap to in the street if he ever remembered to wear one.

She wouldn’t have appreciated him losing control like that.

A few stolen kisses under the stars were hardly an invitation to maul her.

Fitz was determined to treat her how she deserved to be, no matter what his prick’s opinion on the matter was.

Giving up on doing anything else, he opened the book on maths she’d given him and promptly became lost in the equations. The only thing that was missing was Jemma, who he greatly would have liked to ask questions of.

At last, day turned into twilight, and he became obsessed with the line of trees on the far side of the field. He gave up pretending he wasn’t nearly beside himself with wanting to see her and trudged across the field to wait. Every snapped twig or sound of bird wings made him peer eagerly into the shadows.

Luckily, it wasn’t very long before Jemma, wearing a dark grey dress and carrying another hamper of food, appeared from the darkness. Her smile was blinding when she saw him standing there, and she rushed into his arms. Tilting her head back, she eagerly met his lips.

Fitz never wanted to let her go, except that whatever she was carrying in her basket smelled delicious and his stomach rumbled, loudly.

Laughing, she pushed back from him and patted his midsection. “I think I better feed you.”

“I wouldn’t say no,” he replied, walking beside her as they made their way to the fire. Toby stuck near Jemma, waiting for a treat.

She knelt and unpacked the basket, lifting out a printed article first. “It arrived in the post today,” she said as Fitz flipped through the pages. The article talked about the combustion of gasses under pressure, and he was pleased to see his time studying had not been wasted, as the math shown was now clear to him.

“I worked through much of the arithmetic text today,” he said as he bit into a slice of still-warm meat pie.

“How far did you get?”

“Uh, the whole thing?”

She threw her head back and laughed.

Fitz drew his brows together. “That’s funny?”

Jemma smiled at him. “That’s wonderful. I knew you were beyond brilliant. It cheers me so to have met someone that absorbs knowledge like I do. That’s…never happened before.”

Fitz felt pride swelling in his chest. For once his proclivity for learning didn’t seem like a burden or something that marked him out as strange. She liked that he was clever.

They ate, and Jemma answered his questions about the math text while she slipped bits of food to Toby. When supper was done, and she’d packed away the utensils, Toby went to sleep on the far side of the fire, curled up with his head on his paws.

Jemma sat beside Fitz as she had the night before, cuddled against him as he read the article out loud and they discussed it. At least this time they agreed with the findings, and they both thought that the author could have gone further with his conclusions. There were a fair few other tests that would provide a great deal more information, and Fitz tossed the article to the side in frustration when he realized he could do nothing about any of his ideas.

Jemma rolled onto her knees and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want me to stop bringing them?” she asked.

He shook his head and glanced at her. “No, not at all. I’m sorry.” He dragged a hand down his face. “It’s difficult to be so close to something I want, and not be able to have it.”

Jemma tilted her head to the side. “You can have some things.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she straddled his legs and pressed her lips to his.

His entire body woke up.

He didn’t tell her holding her felt like the same bloody thing. As he kissed her, her tongue sweet as it slid over his, he concentrated on enjoying what he could. Much like the article, it was a tease to hold her but not be able to have her.

Though an annoying part of him was continually reciting that fact that she’d said there were some things he could have.

Surely, she hadn’t meant…that?

Jemma moaned and nipped at his lower lip, and Fitz found he was rapidly developing the same problem as the night before as she wiggled against him. Her hands were in his hair, and her lips were divine as they caressed his. Her tongue flicked and teased his mouth, and it was driving him complete barmy.

He slid his hands down her back and grasped her hips, pushing her back before she ended up against his erection.

“Getting late,” he panted.

Jemma’s lips were wet and swollen from his kisses. His hands shook from the wave of sheer desire that swept through him.

Jemma rested her fingers on his shoulders and frowned. “It’s not that late.”

“Um, perhaps it’s best if you were to—”

“Stop,” she said, and he lapsed into silence. “It’s alright.” Jemma smiled at him and dropped her hand down to press against his cock.

He gasped. “Jemma!”

She snorted and rolled her eyes as her fingers wandered up and down his length through the fabric of his trousers. He stared downward, unable to speak.

“I’m a student of the natural sciences, and I understand the theory if not the application of how human bodies function sexually.”

Fitz had to use an inhumane amount of willpower to look up at her face. She was biting her lip and had her eyes trained on the bulge his manhood was making in his clothes.

“Fitz,” she said. “I would like to have intercourse with you.”

He had to have taken leave of his senses. Had Jemma Simmons just propositioned him for…intercourse? While she was touching his prick?

His cock jerked, having already made up its mind.

“Jemma,” he said, voice hoarse. “I…” he trailed off.

Her face became worried. “You haven’t lied to me, have you? You don’t have a wife or a sweetheart?”

His fingers ghosted over her cheek, and he shook his head. “No, no wife, and only one sweetheart, if I count you.”

She lit up. Jemma was so achingly beautiful, especially like this, wild and free, her hair haloed by the fire’s glow. Fitz wanted so many things with her. Things that could never be his. Would anyone condemn him for allowing himself to have the smallest sliver of happiness with her?

“I’m just afraid…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what the future holds. And I know we only met each other a few nights ago, but I feel like you’re a part of me, my heart.” He pressed his palm to his chest.

The look in Jemma’s eyes became soft and warm. “Oh, Fitz.” Her hand stilled on his cock, then rose to cover the one he had on his chest. “You’re a part of me as well.” His breath caught. She shook her head. “And I don’t know what the future will be like, either, which is why I want this so much. No matter what happens, no one can ever take this away from me. From us. You’re who my heart chooses.”

Warmth flooded him and stole his breath. “Jemma,” he whispered even as a new worry crept in. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations?”

She smiled. “As long as it’s you, then everything will be perfect.”

Fitz had run out of words. He crashed his lips against hers again, needing to feel her. His arm wrapped around her and pulled her tight against him. Her breasts pressed against her chest and he—at last— rolled his hips, seeking contact. Only to meet nothing much besides Jemma’s skirts, which were bunched up around her legs. He growled in frustration.

“Fitz?” Jemma asked, breaking the kiss and frowning.

“Too much,” he said, grabbing the fabric of her skirt and shaking it.

Her frown deepened.

“Off,” he replied to her obvious confusion, and her face immediately relaxed.

“Of course, it will make this much easier.” She stood and began loosening her clothing. He climbed to his feet as well, his throat going dry as Jemma divested herself of her outer dress. Fancy women’s clothes involved a terrible lot of fabric, and he was distressed to see she was still swathed in so much of it even with her dress gone. But her hands moved fast, and he had to look away when she dragged her pantaloons and stockings down.   

“Fitz,” she said softly after another minute, and he turned his head towards her, only to nearly end up falling on his rear. She was standing in front of the fire in nothing but her shift. The red glow of the flames outlined her body through the thin material, and the promise of pleasure her curves held was devastating.

He thought he might cry.

“Say something,” she said.

How could he say anything when presented with such magnificence?

Her face fell, and she crossed her arms over her chest before turning away from him.

Wait—

“No!” he blurted. “No, Jemma, I’m sorry.” Cripes, he’d stepped in it. He rushed to her and grabbed her wrist. She looked sad, which wasn’t what he’d meant to do at all. “Jemma, I’m so stupid, forgive me? Oh, blast, I’m not doing this right at all.”

She turned puzzled eyes towards him.

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you! My mind—” he couldn’t come up with the words, and he fluttered his hands helplessly. “Glorious,” he finally whispered. “And brilliant…and I don’t think I truly existed before I met you.”

Her face softened.

“And now I want to touch you. Can I touch you?” Great, now he couldn’t shut up.

She smiled and nodded. His fingers went to the bow holding her shift in place, and he slowly pulled it loose. The shift floated to the ground without a noise, and he was looking at her bare breasts, the nipples puckering in the night air. His fingers fluttered again. He didn’t know where he wanted to touch first. He reached for her hip, but she stepped back.

Fitz whimpered and looked up, only to find her smile had grown into a cheeky grin.

“You too,” she said, her gaze roving down his body.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers raced to undo fastenings and pull off fabric. It occurred to him that perhaps he should be concerned that Jemma wouldn’t find him pleasing, but that thought was tiny and quickly overwhelmed by his sheer desire to feel all of her skin against his.

Bending over he pushed his trousers and small clothes down and off, straightening up to stand naked before her.

Her eyes went straight to his bobbing cock.

****

Jemma hadn’t known quite what to expect, since she’d only seen illustrations of male anatomy, and they hadn’t done justice to the reality.

Fitz’s manhood jutted out from a curly thatch of pubic hair, and part of her was not entirely sure how the mechanics were going to work, but her body seemed to be very excited at the prospect. Heat was licking through her and gathering low in her belly, and a not unpleasant ache had taken up residence in the space between her legs.

Fitz seemed unsure what to do next, and while she appreciated that he wasn’t some kind of a Casanova that found this all routine, she did want him to be touching her and not just gaping. She raised her hand towards him, and he clearly understood the intent because in the next instant his arms were around her and she was flush against him.

He was warm, was her first thought. That one was quickly followed by an observation that his cock, now pressing against her belly, was very hard. Another hot wave of desire rushed through her. His lips found hers, and he was kissing her with wild abandon. His clever fingers skimmed over her, one hand moved downwards to grip her rear, and the other up to cup her breast.

His thumb passed over her nipple.

Jemma moaned and arched into his touch. Her hands were clutching his arms, and she could barely think.

He grunted and pressed his hips forward, making his cock slide over her belly until it brushed her hip bone. She dropped her gaze to look at it, fascinated. Fitz kissed a burning path along her jaw to her neck. The touch of his lips on her skin felt ridiculously good.

She moved her body back just enough to be able to wrap her hand around his shaft. It jerked in her fist and Fitz moaned. The skin was silky smooth, the head deep red in color. She traced her thumb over a vein on the underside. It was very different from her own body. Actually all of him was very different, from the rough scruff that was rubbing against her neck as he kissed her there, to the flat planes of his chest, to his narrow hips.

Her body seemed to greatly appreciate all those differences. Gently, she let go of Fitz’s cock, moving her hand to palm his testicles. She was sure they were referred to as balls, though that wasn’t quite the shape.

Fitz made an incoherent, rumbling noise as she ran her fingers over the rougher skin of his sac. As she was looking down, she noticed his legs shaking.

Jemma let go of him. “Perhaps we should lie down?”

Fitz raised his head, then appeared to figure out what she was saying. Kissing her again, he directed her back towards where his bedroll was laid out. When her bare feet felt the padding under her, she sank down, bringing Fitz along with her. He ended up half on top of her and squeaked an apology as he tried to move away.

With a grunt of frustration, Jemma put an arm around his neck. “You’re not hurting me, and I like how you feel,” she whispered to him, and he immediately relaxed. A few more seconds of kissing her mouth, and he lifted his head.

“You taste so good,” he said, then ducked his head and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

Jemma squeaked, and her back lifted off the blanket as she gripped his hair to keep him from moving. She’d had no idea whatsoever that such a thing was possible, or that it would make her feel like this. She wondered if him putting his mouth on other parts of her would be good as well.  

Fitz was making happy sounding noises as he sucked and teased her nipple with his lips and tongue. Shifting his weight onto one arm, he trailed his hand down her belly until he was petting the hair above her private parts.

“Jemma—” His voice was rough. “I want to touch you. Touch your pussy.” His accent was so thick it took her a few moments to work out what he had asked. Then she wrinkled her nose.

“Pussy? Like a cat? Why is it called that?”

Fitz looked up at her, his brow furrowed. “Don’t rightly know. Figured it was because both had hair?”

That was a nonsensical reason, but she didn’t want to stop him and have an argument about how silly slang for body parts was. “Please,” she said instead, spreading her legs a little wider.

Fitz leaned over to lave her other breast as he slid his fingers between her legs. He ran the tip of one finger over her sex and groaned. “You’re so wet,” he said. “How are you…” His eyes raised to her face again, his expression something between puzzled and shy. “You like me? Like this?”

She nodded. “Very much.” Had he thought otherwise?

Fitz’s eyes closed and he took a shuddering breath before returning his mouth to her chest. His fingers pressed more determinedly between her folds, and she cried out as he found a part that seemed more sensitive than the rest. She tried to remember anatomy diagrams. Clitoris? She’d seen a few mentions that it related to women’s sexuality, but none of her reading material had said how or why, and to her own fingers when she’d briefly examined herself down there, it’d seemed like nothing special.

She was very glad to learn she’d been mistaken. Fitz was circling his fingers over her clitoris, and while the ache was growing, the heat was as well. Her hips were hitching, and she couldn’t help the little moans and cries she was making. The heat of his mouth on her breast and the touch of his fingers was driving her towards something she didn’t understand, but that she wanted very badly.

Fitz hesitated, then removed mouth and his hands from her. He looked ragged, his hair mussed from her hands, his chest heaving. “Jemma,” he rumbled. “The first time, for a woman…I’ve heard it hurts.”

She nodded. “That is my understanding as well.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked deep into hers. “I don’t want to hurt you—”

“It’s alright,” she interrupted, wiggling her hips to try and make him resume his attentions.

He snorted. “I’m going to do my best give you pleasure first, with my fingers. I want you to remember that, and not that I hurt you.” His fingers returned to petting her between her legs.

Jemma nodded, not entirely understanding. He was already making her feel more bliss than she thought was possible. Fitz scooted up, kissing her mouth, his tongue sliding in and out of hers in the same rhythm as his fingers rubbed her clitoris. It was intoxicating. The feeling that something was building inside her returned, and she mewled softly as her focus became centered more and more on his fingers.

Her stomach tightened as her breath became hard to catch. Her nipples were tight points, and she twisted her upper body, pushing them against Fitz’s chest. He moaned, and the deep sound resonated inside her, tightening her muscles even further.

Her thighs quivered and…and…

Jemma keened. Ecstasy flooded her, and her hips bucked. Fitz was kissing her wildly as his fingers continued to move between her legs. The moment seemed to go on forever and not nearly long enough. The pulses of her sex trailed off into barely-there flutters, and Fitz moved his hand away to softly pet her thigh.

When she finally sagged against the bedroll and opened her eyes again, Fitz was staring at her, looking awed.

“Was that good?” he asked.

“Good? I had…I knew it was supposed to feel good, but I had no idea.” She slung her elbow over her eyes. How was she supposed to ever function in society now? Would she ever think of anything else ever again? Of anyone else?

Beside her, Fitz rolled over until he was kneeling between her thighs. He bent down and nuzzled under the arm she had over her face. “I don’t think I can wait much longer,” he said, and the hard line of his cock brushed her thigh.

Jemma didn’t know what to do when the heat inside her abruptly flared back to life. She’d thought she’d be satiated forever. Raising her arm, she settled it around Fitz’s neck. “I’m ready,” she said.

He kissed her softly and quickly, then pressed her forehead to hers as he reached down and grabbed his cock. He dragged the head of it through her folds, and she gasped as it rubbed over her clitoris. Fitz whimpered, then grunted as he positioned his cock at the opening to her body. He paused, his muscles trembling. It was as if he was waiting for something.

His eyes were studying her face, and Jemma understood. There was no going back from this. It couldn’t be undone, and he was giving her one last chance to back out, to tell him to stop.

It was the last thing she wanted in the world.

“Please,” she said. “Fitz.”

He let out a breath, then slowly thrust forward.

From everything Jemma had heard a read, she’d expected to feel like she was being skewered. Instead, it was just…odd. There was a very brief almost pinch, and an ache as her body stretched around his, but it didn’t really hurt.

Fitz’s eyes were tightly shut, and he was breathing through clenched teeth. If anyone was hurting, it looked like him. “Are you doing alright?” she asked, touching his cheek.

His eyes popped open. “Uh…are you?”

Jemma smiled, and Fitz smiled back, though he looked a little unsure.

“I’m not hurting you?” he said.

“There was some uncomfortableness, right at first, but that seems to be gone now.”

“Oh.” Fitz let out a breath. “That’s good.”

Jemma nodded. “It is rather…intense, holding you like this.” She rocked her hips slightly, and Fitz groaned as her legs fell further open.  She found she could squeeze her muscles around his cock, which made the pleasure from before start to return. The notion of reaching that height of bliss with his cock inside her made her shiver with anticipation. It would feel amazing.

Fitz had his eyes screwed shut again.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” she asked. What if Fitz wasn’t enjoying himself? “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, oh Jemma, no. You’re perfect. It’s like you said, intense, and I really need to move.” The last sounded strangled.

“Terrific idea.” She pushed her hips up towards him, and Fitz grunted. He started thrusting. Jemma was very quickly overwhelmed. It felt good. He was hitting a place inside her that was marvelous. She needed…needed…”More,” she said. Her hands slid down his back, and she grabbed his rear, the flex and clench of the muscles under her palms sending a new bolt of heat through her.

Fitz’s plunges into her became faster and harder. It was delicious. She thought she might be able to reach another climax, like before, but…perhaps if either Fitz or she rubbed her clitoris?

There wasn’t enough time for her to decide or to ask because Fitz abruptly drove hard into her. A gasp that might have been her name left him as his cock jerked.  Finally, he sagged against her, his breath coming in gasps. She pet his back with one hand as he pressed his cheek to hers.

He was still inside her, his cock pulsing faintly. It was…she felt…it was as if Fitz was a part of her, and to Jemma’s surprise, tears welled up in her eyes as emotions she couldn’t untangle surged in her chest. She wrapped herself around him as a sob wracked her body.

Fitz pushed himself upright, and his cock slid from inside her. The loss of being so connected to him made her cry harder. What was wrong with her?

“What is it?” he said urgently. “You said it didn’t hurt.”

“Not, not…I don’t hurt…I simply…” She looked up into his worried face and concerned eyes. How was she supposed to spend a moment of her life without him? “I love you,” she said, trying to wipe at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

Fitz’s face went from anxious to gobsmacked, then the corners of his mouth turned down, and his shoulders shook as tears streaked down his cheeks as well. “Oh, Jemma, I love you too.”

He lay down on his side next to her, and she rolled to face him. Fitz gathered her against him and tried to kiss away her tears even as his kept coming.

“I love you so much,” she babbled. “So much. You’re everything, and I never want to leave here.”

He kissed her cheeks and lips. “You’ll come tomorrow, won’t you? Please. It’s ten thousand years between the time you leave and the time you return as it is.”

“I will, Fitz, I think I would go mad to be kept from you.”

She tangled her legs with his and curled up against his chest as her tears finally trailed off. His heartbeat was loud against her ear, a beautiful sound. He continued to pet her hair and murmur his love.

It would be too soon she would need to return home if she didn’t want to be missed, but she didn’t think the greater part of her would ever leave this field, even if her body must. She’d handed her heart over to Fitz, and all she could hope is that he would treasure it, the same as she would his.

If this was being ruined, then she was quite glad for it because she’d never felt more alive.


	4. Sun and Rain

The sun was shining overhead as a few puffy clouds sailed across the wide, blue sky. Jemma enjoyed the warmth on her face as she made her way towards the field were Fitz, and his flock were. Toby met her when she exited the trees, his tail wagging furiously.

She gave him a beef knuckle she’d purloined from the kitchen, and the dog trotted off with his prize.

The sheep were spread out across the field, looking much like the fluffy clouds. In the three weeks since she’d met Fitz, they’d cropped the grass to almost nothing. Fitz had delayed as long as he could, tonight he had to move the flock. It would be six weeks before he could return and to Jemma, that felt like an eternity. The rest of his land was nowhere near the Simmons’ estate. Jemma couldn’t walk so far each night, and he couldn’t risk losing his livelihood by leaving his flock. It was all quite impossible, and she was dreading the morrow.

They were supposed to meet one last time after dark, but with Bobbi’s reluctant help, Jemma had managed to steal away early. She was excited and giddy about seeing Fitz during the day. He wouldn’t be expecting her yet, so he wasn’t waiting for her like usual. In fact, she didn’t see him at all.

Putting her hand over her eyes, she scanned the field. Where’d Fitz gotten off to?

Carrying her hamper with cold mutton and biscuits, she made her way over to the fire, which was nearly out, and set the basket and the few last books she’d brought down beside it.

When she saw Fitz, stretched out on his bedroll with his cap over his eyes, she smiled. He was fast asleep, laying on his back with his hands splayed out on his belly. Biting her lip, Jemma tiptoed over to him and knelt down. He was frowning slightly and mumbled something intelligible when she lifted his cap slightly to peek at his eyes.

She felt so much better simply being there beside him. With Fitz, she could be herself, not a doll for other people to dress up and move around. He cared about her, loved her, and that made it much easier for her to care about herself as well.

“Fitz,” she said softly, but he didn’t stir. Jemma stood and unlaced her dress, letting it fall. Her underclothes followed suit until she had nothing on but her stockings and garter belts. She’d stared at Fitz as she’d undressed, but he hadn’t moved at all.

Feeling bold, she went to her knees again, then straddled him. Carefully, she pressed her center against the front of his pants as she watched his face. His frown increased the slightest amount, but his breathing remained deep and even.

Silly man, he wasn’t supposed to be this deeply asleep.

At least not all of him was immune to her presence. Beneath her thigh, his cock was rapidly hardening in his trousers.  She rubbed herself against it shamelessly, enjoying the slow build of heat and pleasure inside her as much as she did watching a line form between Fitz’s brows as if he was trying to solve an exceptionally tricky arithmetic problem.

Jemma adored how physically comfortable they were together, as well as mentally. After the first time, they’d given up any pretense of getting anything else accomplished until after the needs of their bodies had been fulfilled. Then they would cuddle and eat together, or read whatever material Jemma had brought. Every night for three weeks she’d been in his arms, and Jemma had never been happier.

They’d explored and experimented, discovering together what made them the most satisfied. One night, Jemma had confessed she’d thought that men took women from behind like animals did. Fitz, after initially complaining he wouldn’t be able to see her face that way, had stopped saying anything when she’d gone to all fours and presented her rear to him. They’d found such an arrangement could be greatly amenable to both of them.

Another time, Jemma had suggested pleasing him with her mouth, and he’d been shocked. But then he’d trembled, and his eyes had taken on a determined gleam as he’d suggested that he do the same to her. They hadn’t gotten any reading done that night at all.

Now, with her legs on either side of Fitz with his arousal a determined line against her, she figured out they could join in this position as well. And she’d be able to set the pace. The idea of being in control of their lovemaking stoked the fires in her, and she was rather disappointed he was still asleep.

She shuffled back to hover over his thighs as she undid the front placard of his trousers before moving it and his underthings aside to find and pull out his cock. She paused to admire it in the dappled sunlight that was filtering down through branches spread overhead. Fitz’s pale skin was even paler without the fire’s glow, and the head of his cock was deep red. It was fascinating.

Whatever Jemma had been planning on doing, it left her mind as she stared at his manhood. She licked her lips as a drop of fluid appeared at the tip and ran down the side. She leaned over and licked it off, humming happily at the musky taste of him, then sucked as much of his cock into her mouth as she could, her tongue tracing the veins on the underside.

She bobbed her head a few times, and Fitz, at last, woke up.

He snorted in a breath and gave a yelp followed by a moan.

“Jemma?” he said, voice sleep-hoarse. Her toes curled. She’d never be used to how her name sounded coming from his lips. She glanced up as she continued to suck his cock, finding him with his head raised and a look of wonder on his face. His cap had fallen off, and the sunlight was bringing out bright strands of color in his hair and making his eyes appear far bluer than they did in firelight. He was beautiful.

Unable to resist, she gently released his prick and scooted back up his body until she could kiss him.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until tonight,” he said around kisses as he tangled his hands in her hair.

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh, good.”

She needed him. Her body was aching for his. Reaching down between them, she fisted his cock and positioned it against her opening.

Fitz’s breathing hitched, a tiny noise she’d come to adore, and his hands dropped to her thighs. Sitting upright, she slid onto his cock, gasping as he filled her. She palmed her breasts, holding them as she rolled her hips. Fitz’s eyes were very, very wide.

“This is nice,” she whispered as she slid up and down his cock, riding him.

Fitz nodded vigorously.

It took him a few more minutes to find his tongue. “You look lovely, Jemma,” he said. “The daylight suits you.” He was tracing his hands over her body, fingers outlining her shoulders, hips, and legs.

He pressed a finger to her clit, and she responded by clenching her inner walls around him as he rubbed her.

“Are you close?” he asked softly. “I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.” His thighs were tense, and he was lifting his hips to meet hers.

“Just keep touching me,” she said, biting her lip and rocking faster.

They should have tried this sooner, but she suspected even a lifetime would not be nearly enough for them to determine everything they could do together.

Her body coiled tight in a way she was now familiar with. Fitz’s fingers moved faster over her clit, and she shifted slightly, leaning a little further back until his cock was hitting the perfect spot inside her with each thrust.

She groaned loudly as she peaked. Her body undulated with the waves of pleasure. Fitz was grunting now, his hips jerking upwards, and she leaned forward, bracing herself against his chest so that she could swing her body more easily. Both of Fitz’s hands went to her rear, gripping it firmly while his eyes seemed locked on her chest.

Little echoes of bliss were still resounding through her when Fitz bowed under her, calling out her name as his cock bucked inside her. Jemma liked his moments of completion almost as much as her own.

He finally relaxed, and she slid off his softening cock to lay beside him. Fitz immediately rolled to the side and hugged her to him, pressing kisses to her face. She embraced him in return, tugging at his shirt so she could put her hands on the bare skin of his back.

He kissed the end of her nose. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me as well.” She snuggled against him. “I’m very frightened of tomorrow.”

“I swear to you: six weeks, and I’ll be back. If I had any other way to make my living I would take it, but these bloody sheep are it, and they have to eat.”

Jemma stroked his cheek. “I know, but what if there’s an emergency and my family is called away? Or any other of a million things. If I can’t—” She had to swallow back a sob. “I’d never just leave. If I can’t say goodbye in person, I’ll nail a letter to this tree.”

He nodded. “I don’t want to think about you leaving ever.”

They were both silent. Jemma’s family would winter in London, and it wouldn’t be until the next spring that they’d return. She was seriously considering falling off a horse intentionally and feigning the injury to be much worse than it was so she’d be unable to travel. Perhaps her parents would leave her behind, and she could spend the winter here with Bobbi and a few others, then Fitz could celebrate Christmas tide with her. She longed to make love with him in a real bed. And they had a plethora of clocks in the house which she’d know he’d adore taking apart to see how the insides fit together.

It would also likely be warmer in her manner house than his cottage, and Fitz hated to be cold. She was thinking of somehow buying a fur-lined coat for him as a present.

She truly never wanted to be away from him. “Whatever happens, know that I will never, for a moment, stop loving you.”

“Or I you.”

Jemma smiled, and Fitz kissed her softly, rolling her onto her back.

“Have I told you yet how lovely you look?” he said.

“A time or two.”

“I don’t think it has been near enough.” He sat back for a moment to pull his shirt off. When he returned, he dropped down to kiss and nuzzle her breasts. “It really is a shame you ever have to be dressed at all. I rather fancy being able to put my mouth on your nipples any time I wish.”

“It would make for strange dinner parties.”

Fitz laughed. “I would leave the explanations to you.”

****

Twilight came much too fast.

They’d never gotten around to reading the material Jemma brought, but he had quite a bit to take with him now, to tide him over.

Fitz knew it wasn’t going to make up for not having her in his arms.

He refused to let go of her the entire afternoon, kissing, licking, and touching all of her over and over again, burning her into his memory.

They were still on his bedroll, lying side-by-side, their chests pushed together. Jemma was lazily stroking his rear, which was a part of himself he’d never thought much about before, but which she seemed to appreciate. He quite liked hers as well. Though he thought he preferred her breasts more, and he’d spent a great deal of time during the last few hours playing with them. They now sported a few love bites that he was secretly very happy about. Marks that said she was his, or had been for at least for a few moments.

He had little hope that after she left for the winter that he’d ever see her again. She would meet some lad of her own station in London, one that didn’t sound like Fitz or smell of sheep, and she’d fall for him. He’d probably be tall and have the sort of education a poor farmer could never hope for.

His one wish was that Jemma would at least fondly remember this summer with him. That in later years she’d see someone in a kilt or a walk over a sheep-skin rug and smile a little, thinking of her dalliance with a Scot.

He didn’t think he’d ever recover. His own life stretched bleakly into a Jemma-less future. It probably wouldn’t be fair for him to ever court another girl—his stomach twisted at the mere thought—no one could ever live up to Jemma Simmons, and what girl would want to live in her shadow?

He was cursed, to touch such love and not be able to keep it.

Jemma stirred against him. “I should get home, I’m expected at dinner.”

Fitz lifted his arm, and she hesitated, kissing him again before standing and starting to redress.

He rose and pulled his kit on as well, barely able to look at her. They sorted through the pile of papers and books together, as he couldn’t take it all, and she put the discarded material in her hamper to carry home.

She had brought him a set of fresh pencils, a tiny detail that made his heart ache. He packed up his bedroll, which he hoped would still smell like her for a while yet, as well as the rest of his camp, preparing to head out as soon as she left.

When she was ready, he walked her solemnly to the far side of the field, her hand in his.

She stopped before entering the trees and set her basket down.

Her dark eyes were somber as she turned her face up to him. “You’ll be here? Six weeks and you’ll be here?”

“There is nothing that could keep me from it.”

Her chest rose and fell, and she wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Fitz.”

“I love you too.” He held her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair one final time. At last, she pulled back, kissed him on the cheek, and picked up her basket before walking towards her house. She kept looking back at him, and he willed her not to cry because then he didn’t think he’d be able to stand to see her go.

She didn’t, and finally his heart disappeared among the trees. He waited for long minutes after he lost sight of her but at last, had to do what needs must. Spinning around, he marched to where his meager belongs were and gathered them up as he whistled commands to Toby to collect the flock.

He was leaving this field a much different person than he had entered it. He was glad to have met Jemma but had the unsettling feeling that no matter where else life took him, he’d never truly leave this place.

****

_One month later_

Jemma adored mornings at the moment because each one brought her a day closer to seeing Fitz again. She refused to think of anything past that moment. His arms would open, and she’d run into them, and the world would be right again.

Under the covers, she frowned. The faint, sick feeling from the last several days was making her stomach far from pleasant. Maybe if she stayed very still, it would go away.

There was a light tapping at her bedroom window. It was the sound of rain pelting the house and her already upset stomach dropped. Surely Fitz had some kind of protection against the weather? A sturdy hat and coat? Neither had been required in their time together, and it pained her to think of him shivering under a tree, miserable and cold while she laid snug in her bed.

Bobbi came bustling in. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said. “Up with you, or you’ll miss breakfast, and I’ll have to hear about how hungry you are until dinner.”

“I’m not sure I want any,” Jemma said, curling up on her side. She didn’t feel good at all.

“You need at least a little something. If the rain lets up, Ward will be here tonight. You’ll need your strength to deal with him.”

Jemma gave an unhappy groan. Dear heavens, she didn’t want to think about Ward. Her father had corresponded with him and judging from the stern lectured Jemma had been receiving, Ward was probably going to ask for her hand again. That alone was enough to make her nauseated.

Bobbi snorted and opened the curtains. Morning light filtered in, subdued by the gathered clouds. She undid the window’s latches and opened the bottom pane to let in the warm summer air, fragrant from the rain. It was smell Jemma loved, rich with the promise of growing things.

She took a deep breath…and gagged. She scrambled out of bed, going to her knees and yanking out the porcelain chamber pot, which thankfully she hadn’t needed during the night. It was freezing against her hands as she heaved and brought up what little there was in her stomach.

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, wincing at the wretched taste in her mouth, and looked up at Bobbi. Who was standing with her arms crossed and glaring at Jemma.

“I…I haven’t been feeling well,” Jemma whispered.

“Right,” Bobbi said. “When was the last time you had your monthlies?”

Jemma did a quick calculation. Then did it again. That couldn’t be right.  Bobbie moistened a flannel in the washbasin and handed it to Jemma. She wiped her mouth.

“Well?” Bobbi asked, taking the rag back and hanging it up.

“I’m not always regular,” Jemma said, trying to stall as her brain turned over and over the evidence. No monthly, being sick in the morning. Bobbi tilted her head, and Jemma sighed. “I believe it was ten weeks ago.”

Bobbi sighed and held out a hand, which Jemma took as she stood up. Her stomach roiled, and she had to lean against the bed to stay upright.

“I guess you and your young man did a great deal more than read books and steal kisses,” Bobbie said, her voice tight.

Jemma peeked at Bobbi around the curtain of her hair.

Bobbi huffed, then crossed her arms. “I supposed I should have had a talk with you because goodness knows your mother wouldn’t have.”

“I am very well read,” Jemma said, slightly insulted to think Bobbi would believe she didn’t know about sexual intercourse.

Bobbi let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, but I let all that reading lull me into thinking you wouldn’t be playing those kinds of games with a farmer. And I at least could have told you how to decrease the likelihood of becoming with child.”

Jemma put a hand low on her belly. “We didn’t even think of it,” she said. “Or at least I never did, I don’t know about Fitz, but it seemed like the kind of thing that wouldn’t happen to us.” A baby. Fitz’s baby, growing inside her. She was stunned.

“Can you give me the date you think it was conceived? Then I can tell you the day when it will most likely arrive.”

“How am I supposed to pinpoint that?”

Bobbi sighed. “The day you laid with him?”

“I know that…but it was the third day after we met…and every subsequent one.”

“Oh.” Bobbi looked heavenward. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

Jemma didn’t know what to make of that. She looked down at where her hand was resting. It made her feel closer to him, knowing that she still had a part of him with her. She could imagine telling him, watching his eyes light up. There was no way Fitz would not be delighted they’d created a new life together.

Only it was still two weeks until she saw him again. If he could make it. If he was even there. If he hadn’t decided meeting with her was too much of a burden.

Her face crumpled, and she sobbed. There was another wave of nausea, but her stomach didn’t upend. Bobbi put an arm around her shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out, Jemma, don’t cry.”

Jemma hiccupped through another sob. “No, that’s not…I…I love him so much.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Back to bed with you. I sure hope this Fitz is worth all this.”

“He’s…he’s…everything,” Jemma choked out before launching herself onto the bed and hiding her face in the pillow.

Bobbi sat beside her and patted her back. “I’ll make your excuses to your parents this morning, but you need to grow a backbone before dinner tonight. And you need to start thinking about what you’re going to do.” Bobbi combed her fingers through Jemma’s hair. “I never thought I’d see the day when Jemma Simmons was in hysterics over a man.”

Hysterics? She wasn’t in hysterics.

Her entire body shook with a sob.

Maybe a little.

Jemma rolled onto her side and wiped at her cheek. Bobbi was wearing a faint smile, and Jemma glared at her.

“Rest up,” Bobbi said. “I’ll be back in a bit with some toast and tea, and that should stay down. You’ll probably make up for it by eating everything in sight at dinner.” She squeezed Jemma’s shoulder and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Jemma’s had returned to her belly. A baby. Would she have curly hair like her father? Would he have blue eyes?

Jemma had no idea what was the socially-expected emotion of her was, as an unmarried woman with child, but she was nearly sure it wasn’t the joy welling up inside her. This changed everything.

She needed to start planning.


	5. Ribbons

_Two Weeks Later_

Jemma was standing in front of her mirror with just her shift and stockings on. She had the shift pulled tight against her form and was frowning at her reflection. Even if she’d conceived nearly immediately, at the most she could only be nine weeks along. How was it possible she already looked pregnant?

At least the dark blue dress Bobbi had laid out for her was high waisted and would hide her belly.

Bobbi knocked and entered the room, rolling her eyes at Jemma.

“It’s not going to get any smaller,” Bobbi tutted.

Jemma smiled, running her hand over the bump. Bobbi had proven herself far more than just a maid during the last few weeks. Jemma had already been partial to her, but Bobbi had become a true friend after Jemma had settled on the plan of running away with Fitz. A plan that was going to happen that night.

Bobbi kept telling Jemma she was going to regret it, and that love didn’t put food on the table, but then she’d sewed Jemma’s jewelry into the lining of a cloak. Or when Jemma’s nausea, which had settled into being most of the day after refusing to confine itself to just the morning, abated slightly and Jemma could think of nothing but the lemon custard she’d once had on her tenth birthday, Bobbi had somehow gotten the family’s chef to whip up a bowl of it. Jemma had downed every drop, even licking the bowl in an unladylike fashion.

She was not surprised that Fitz’s baby would make her so hungry.  He certainly could put away a fair bit of food.

Bobbi helped Jemma into the gown and made a face.

“Is something wrong?” Jemma asked.

“It’s not just your belly that’s getting bigger,” Bobbi grumbled. Jemma looked down. Oh dear, she certainly did have more cleavage than she remembered. Bobbi fussed with the front of the gown, doing her best to force Jemma’s breasts into submission. “I don’t know why this year’s gowns have to have such low necklines.”

“Is everything else ready?” Jemma said. Nothing could go wrong. She simply had to get to Fitz.

“For the millionth time, yes. It will all be waiting by the side door for you as promised. And try not to stomp on Ward’s foot if he proposes to you. The rumor is he’s going to do it tonight, though that man’s wooing leaves a lot to be desired.”

“I’ll say, he’s said about ten words to me since he returned. It feels much more like it’s my father he’s wooing, though my father is strictly interested in his pocketbook.”

“I wanted to cuff Ward when he told you to be quiet the other night while he and your father were discussing astronomy and you spoke up about the article you read. I didn’t understand much of what you said, something about the focal lengths of lenses, but the way Ward turned to you and said that ladies should not talk of such things—” Bobbi snorted with anger. “It made me terribly glad you were running back to your Fitz. I’m guessing he wouldn’t behave in such a manner.”

“Actually, we read the article I was talking about together. He thinks the images would be much clearer if the mirrors were treated more like the lenses, but you would have to…” Jemma trailed off as Bobbi smothered a laugh.

“That baby of yours is going to come out holding a book.”

Jemma crossed her arms. “I don’t think that’s biologically possible.” She tried to look stern, but it dissolved into giggles.

 Bobbi wrapped her in a hug as they both laughed.

“I got a present for you,” Bobbi said, wiping the corner of her eyes.

Jemma raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you could use some courage tonight, for all kinds of reasons, so when I was last in the village to shop, I bought you these.” From the pocket of her apron, Bobbi pulled a length of blue plaid ribbon. “I don’t know if it’s the right colors for your Fitz’s family, but it was pretty and would look lovely in your hair.”

Jemma hugged Bobbi again. “Thank you. Thank you for caring. For helping.”

“If it’s a girl, I expect you to name her after me.”

“Barbara is a beautiful name. However, if it’s a boy, I’m not calling him Lance.”

“If it’s a boy, he’ll probably be saddled with some atrocious Scottish family name with more letters than are necessary.”

Bobbi stood back and smoothed Jemma’s gown into place as Jemma glanced at the window, wishing it was already dark.

“Now, what was it again that your Fitz was so good at designing?”

“He has so many ideas about the railroad, and they’re only improving the more he reads. I wish I could simply drag him to London and shove him in the office of the head engineer for the steam engines. I’m certain he’d be dazzled.” Jemma looked in the mirror again, making sure the dress hid her belly as much as she thought it did. “It seems very wrong someone so brilliant should never be given the opportunity to shine.”

Bobbi smiled. “Or be forced to wear skirts and sit in drawing rooms. You’re two peas in a pod. That managed to make a third pea. You’ll both be more worried about that one soon enough.” Bobbi’s smile faltered. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Jemma. And I’m very glad you won’t be a decoration on Ward’s arm for the rest of your life.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said again, lifting her chin and heading for the door. She’d be expected for dinner any time now.

“You aren’t going to bring up your meal on him, are you?” Bobbi asked.

Jemma paused. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, that’s too bad.”

****

Dinner was excruciating, and Jemma was hardly able to eat as her nerves concerning what she was about to do kept hounding her. She was barely able to think about the fact that Fitz would be waiting for her. It seemed almost like a dream.

Her father and Ward were laughing and slapping each other on the back in a conversation Jemma and her mother clearly weren’t meant to be a part of.

“What was I like when I was a baby?” Jemma asked her mum.

Her mother cut her eyes towards Ward and then smiled. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled, then,” she said.

Jemma’s stomach turned, but if her mother wanted to believe she was contemplating having babies with Ward—perish the though—Jemma certainly wasn’t about to correct her. She did her best to not listen to Ward’s apparently hilarious story about riding a horse until it dropped to death under him in order to win a bet.

“Well, you were a quiet little thing, so tiny. Your nurse said you hardly cried and were never one to fuss much, but always eager to see what was happening. She said she’d stand with you at the window and point things out from the time you were very small.”

Jemma smiled, but her heart felt brittle.

Her nurse. Of course, because the wife of Lord Simmons wouldn’t have raised her own child. Under the table, Jemma pressed her hand to the slight curve of her belly, silently promising her son or daughter she wouldn’t let someone else raise them. Not that she’d have a choice as a farmer’s wife. Or that she could even fault her mother. It simply felt wrong. She imagined her child sitting on her lap and learning to read, or on his or her father’s knee, working basic arithmetic problems.

Or maybe she just so desperately wanted the three of them together she simply couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“I’m sure,” her mother continued, “with your hips, birthing a whole string of sons will be no problem for you.”

Jemma nearly choked on the food in her mouth. Exactly how much wine had her mother had?

Her mother leaned closer. “And I’ll tell how to best deal with a man when he’s working on putting those babes in you.” Jemma smiled blandly. “There’s no reason to be scared. If you moan and wiggle a bit, they get done faster and leave you be.” Oh dear, it must have been most of a bottle.

Jemma wanted to say something back about if the man was doing it right, she would be moaning and wiggling anyway, but it wasn’t the opportune time for that. “Thank you,” she said instead, pushing mushy peas around her plate with her fork. Her baby certainly wasn’t interested in those.

After what felt like eons, the dinner ended. Her father and Ward disappeared into the study, and Jemma was preparing herself for further embarrassing talk about baby-making, which Jemma was sure she was rather good at, considering the evidence, but instead her mother simply excused herself, leaving Jemma alone in the parlor.

The reason became clear when Ward entered a few minutes later, a sly smile on his face.

“Hello,” she said, wishing she’d already risked leaving.

“Hello, Jemma,” he said smoothly, a grin he probably considered charming on his face. He crossed the room to take her hand, and her stomach turned. “I suppose you know why I’m here?”

She decided to play dumb. It’s not like Ward didn’t think it of her anyway, and she had long ago ceased wishing to impress him. “After I was so beastly to you? I have no idea.” She plastered a fake smile on her face.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He put an arm around her and drew her close. Jemma’s belly, and the rest of her, vigorously protested.

She put a hand on his chest. “Ward, I think you should back up.”

“I think not, this time I have been assured you’ll say yes.”

Jemma swallowed as bile climbed up the back of her throat. “Ward, please, let me go.”

“It’s too late. You’re already mine.” To Jemma’s horror, he put his mouth over hers. His breath stank of sour whisky and his lips were slimy.

It was too much for her poor stomach. She managed to shove hard enough at Ward’s shoulders to make him stumble back a step, anger in his eyes, but then her dinner was coming back up all over the front of him.

She guessed the baby wasn’t pleased with his forwardness either.

Ward was sputtering, and his face was turning red. One of his hands closed into a fist.

“Excuse me!” Jemma said before she turned and fled. She burst out of the door of the parlor, heading for the side entrance of the house. Thankfully, the halls were empty, and her things were waiting for her as Bobbi had promised. She quickly grabbed her bags and snuck out the door. The garden was also deserted, and she hurried as fast as she dared, only stopping at the fountain to quickly wash out her mouth.

She felt much better now that her stomach had emptied, and because she was running towards her future.

****

Fitz was pacing along the edge of the trees. He’d moved the sheep early and had spent a good part of the day trying to make himself presentable for Jemma.

His heart was in his throat, but there’d been no note nailed to the tree, and he’d unrolled his bedding with the hope that she’d be joining him there once the sun disappeared. He’d spent the last six weeks dreaming of Jemma, day and night. And more than once, in the dark, he’d wept for her. He hadn’t understood the word lonely until he had no hope of seeing her. He’d read everything she’d given him, then read it again. And another time after that. But it had been only a momentary distraction from the hole in his heart.

He’d felt like a ghost for six weeks.

Toby, who’d been lying on the grass and licking his paw, stood and trotted towards the trees. He whined softly and started wagging his tail. A few seconds later, Fitz saw her. He nearly crashed to his knees. She was glowing in the moonlight.

And she was here.

Oh dear lord.

Jemma looked up, and he caught the exact second she saw him. Her face went from being pinched to bursting with pure joy. Awe swept through him. He’d never imagined someone could be so happy to see him. She dropped what she was carrying to the ground, which was rather a lot more than usual, but he didn’t have time to wonder what she brought because she was running for him.

Fitz opened his arms and then Jemma was in them, and he was laughing and crying. “Jemma,” he whispered. Then threw his head back. “Jemma!” he howled. She was clinging to him.

“Fitz, you’re here. You’re here!”

“How could I be anywhere else?” He kissed her ear, her cheek, her hair. She smelled wonderful. And she was warm and pressed against him. “I missed you! I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. Oh, Fitz, kiss me.”

Her fingers were in his hair as he slanted his mouth over hers. The first touch of their lips lit his entire body on fire. And with the next, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, suddenly desperate for all of her. She moaned, and the sound went straight to his cock. His hands slid over her, and he didn’t think he could wait. He’d been too long without he and he hungered to feel every part of her. He was hers, and it’d been eons since he’d been able to worship her.

Blindly, he backed her into a tree, growling at all the fabric that was between him. “Want you,” he panted against her lips.

“Yes, please. I think I won’t survive otherwise.” Jemma’s voice was honeyed with desire, and the press of Fitz’s cock against his trousers became unbearable.

He yanked at the front of her dress, and her breasts spilled out into his waiting hand as he kissed a trail down her neck. They were lusher than he remembered, and of all the details he could have gotten slightly wrong, he appreciated this was the one. He bent down and sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth, and Jemma’s entire body undulated.

“Oh!” she said, her fingers digging into his scalp. “Oh…Fitz!”

He was chuffed by her obvious enjoyment. He switched to the other nipple, and she moaned loudly. His poor cock was testing the integrity of his trousers’ stitching. Jemma’s back arched, and she bucked her hips.

She tugged on his hair. “In, now. I need you now!” She sounded desperate, and for a second he didn’t know what to do. Releasing him, she started pulling up her skirt. “Trousers down,” she barked, and that unstuck him. He got his belt undone, and his buttons unhooked in record time. Jemma had pushed her underthings down and off one ankle.

Grabbing his shirt, she yanked him against her and wrapped her leg around his hip. When he slid his fingers between the lips of her pussy, checking to see if she was ready, he was startled by how wet she was. As always, it was nearly unfathomable to him that she could desire him as much as he did her. He brushed over her distended clit, and she mewled and writhed.

He lined his cock up with her opening and pushed himself in to the hilt. Jemma made a soft cry of joy, and he had to pause, his cheek pressed to hers, as a wave of warmth and tenderness crashed through him.

“I love you, Jemma,” he murmured to her. “I love you so much.”

Her inner muscles pulsed around him, the perfect welcome home. “I love you too, Fitz.”

The instinct to thrust became overwhelming, and he tentatively rocked his hips. Jemma rewarded him by letting her head fall back against the tree and moaning. Her arms were around his neck, and he had to brace himself with one hand as he grasped her thigh with the other.

Her channel was warm and slippery, and he couldn’t help but move more rapidly, rutting into her hard and fast.

Jemma circled her hips, keeping pace with him, and it was hardly any time at all before she stiffened and her pussy fluttered around his cock. She keened, her face awash in bliss.

He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

His completion was nearing, his belly tightening with it. Jemma had her hands on his face and was directing his mouth to hers. He kissed her wildly as he thrust into her. He peaked, grunting as he kept his lips on hers. Finally, the kisses dwindled until he was more just mouthing her.

She giggled and pushed against him, but he didn’t move. Both her feet were on the ground now, and she was leaning against his chest.

“Don’t think I’ll ever move again,” he said.

She laughed and slipped out from between him and the tree. He nearly fell over.

Smile still in place, she put her foot back through her pantaloons and tugged them up, pausing to brush the bits of dead leaves off them. She turned away from him to finish the process, also rearranging the front of her dress. Which really was too bad. He consoled himself with the thought he was going to get her naked when they reached the fire.

Jemma started to gather her things.

“That’s a lot of stuff you brought,” he said, going to help her.

She dropped the bag in her hands and straightened up, fixing her gaze on his face. “I’m running away. With you.”

“You are?” Hope took flight in his chest. He felt like he was soaring along on bird’s wings. She wanted to be with him. He put a hand on a tree to keep from falling over and rolling around on the ground because he found himself so giddy. Fitz had no idea how it was going to work, but he’d find some way.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“I’m not sure I care.”

She chuckled and shook her head, walking over to stand directly in front of him. “You’ll care.”

“I will?”

“Fitz, I’m carrying your child.”

His entire world went sideways. Jemma pregnant. His baby.

This time his knees couldn’t hold him, and he ended up eye level with her midsection. His hand trembled as he pulled the material of her dress taut over her belly. It was rounded out, not a lot, but much more than it had been. He felt like a fool for missing that in his rush to be inside her. Fitz leaned forward and pressed his cheek against where the life they had created with their love was growing. He glanced up. Jemma was biting her lip and looked terrified.

He hadn’t dared to dream of a family with her, or that it could be possible. As if her body would know how much lower his station was from hers and such a thing would not be allowed. He wrapped his arms around her and held his world tightly. “I love you. I love you both.”

Jemma shook, and he looked up again. She was crying. He surged to his feet and hugged her, and her arms squeezed him back just as fiercely. There was a noise from the woods, and he looked up sharply, then at Toby. The dog hadn’t turned towards the sound, so Fitz relaxed, but he knew her parents would most likely not just let her run off with a farmer. A Scottish farmer, at that.

He would fight for her and their child, but he could only think of one way to legally keep her by his side. One previously unimaginable way. But Jemma said she loved him, was pregnant with his baby, surely she wouldn’t hesitate to bind their lives together? Thankfully, she was the same age as him, old enough to not require her parent’s permission, and bless Scotland, because they wouldn’t have to jump through any hoops.

Fitz took a deep breath. He still had to actually ask.

Taking a step back from Jemma, he sank to one knee and took her hand. “Jemma Simmons, I love you with everything that I am.” She wiped the tears from her face, her eyes wide. “And if you’ll have me, I want to spend every day by your side, because I believe we were made for each other, and that it’s no accident we found one another, nor that our union has already been blessed.”

She was nearly crushing his fingers with her grip, and he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before gazing deeply into her beloved eyes.

“Jemma, will you marry me?”


	6. Home

It was the second time in her life Jemma had been proposed to.

Only this time, as Fitz looked up at her, his face loving, open, and honest, she had no trouble forming a reply.

“Yes! A million times yes!”

He leapt back to his feet, grinning madly, and snatched her into a hug. Lifting her off the ground, he spun her around. Jemma was just excited, until her nausea caught up with her and she had to push away from Fitz. Propping herself against a tree, she breathed slowly in and out as her stomach settled.

“Jemma?” Fitz asked, sounding concerned. She glanced over to find him looking close to tears with both his hands up, fingers splayed. “Did I do…can I help?”

“I’m alright, and you did nothing wrong. I simply seem to be about to cast up my accounts at all times. My—” Bobbi wasn’t her maid anymore, now was she? “—my friend said it should pass in a week or two.”

Fitz’s face scrunched up, and Jemma wanted to laugh. She was very familiar with how he was less than enamored with biological functioning, but then his expression returned to one of worry, and he walked over to gently place a hand on her back.

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

She hugged him, and his arms went around her, holding her close. “This helps,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t mind I was so forward as to assume you’d be willing to go along with my plan. I couldn’t imagine you turning us away.”

“Never,” he breathed.

Jemma gave herself a little time to bask in the feeling of being loved. “I’m going to like being your wife.”

“And I’m going to like being your husband, but we better hurry. I wish I could give you the wedding you deserve, but I’m afraid we’ll be hastening to my friend Mack’s smithy, as I know he’ll be awake to witness us.”

Jemma clutched Fitz tighter. Before the sun rose they would be made one in the eyes of all.

For her, he was already a part of her, had been since she’d looked over his shoulder and seen his engine diagrams. Or maybe earlier, when she’d first thought she’d like to kiss him. To become his wife simply seemed to be the correct and natural order of things.

She pecked his lips and gathered up her bags. “I have some money and jewelry. It’s not a lot, and most of it we can’t spend until my parents have left for London.”

He took one of the bags from her with a sigh. “I want to protest and say something about supporting you, but the truth is, it’ll help.”

Jemma walked beside him across the field. The grass was much taller now that it’d been without grazing for more than a month.

“What about the sheep?” she asked.

“They’re all I got, and they’re not exactly worth a fortune.” Fitz scowled at his flock.  “Though there were a fair few healthy lambs this year. That’s the reason I spend my time watching them. They can get in heaps of trouble, and if I lose even a few, it could make a great deal of difference come winter.” He whistled a series of commands at Toby, who gave him a long-suffering look before darting off to gather the flock. “He’s not happy because we only drove them here today.”

“And now?”

“I’ll take them home.” Fitz started breaking down his camp and stuffing things into his rucksack.

“Will you be going out again with them…after?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know what I was going to do at first, but with you having a few coins I can hire the neighbor’s lad to watch them. He wanted the job after winter, but I couldn’t afford to pay him.”

Jemma breathed a sigh of relief. She would have hated to have still been walking out to a field to see her new husband. “I do have to admit I’m glad you couldn’t.”

He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. After a moment his gaze dropped to her belly. “As am I.”

Once the few things he had were packed, Fitz loaded himself down, protesting when she tried to take some of the burden from him. “I’ve got it. I’ll be fine. You’re carrying enough,” he said, eyeing her midsection. She groaned.

“Leopold Fitz! I am pregnant, not helpless, and if you believe you’re going to coddle me for the next seven months, you have another think coming.”

Fitz ducked his head and handed over a couple of the bags to her.

Toby had made quick work of gathering the sheep. Fitz did a headcount, confirming they were all there, then give another series of whistles. Toby barked and took off, moving the sheep towards a dirt path. It was impressive, watching Toby and Fitz working to drive the sheep together.

Soon they’d be her sheep and livelihood too. Oh dear. She had a lot to learn. She watched them closely as she and Fitz followed behind the flock, keeping an eye out for any obvious strays or signs of trouble.

The night was balmy, but the moon was waning, and there wasn’t a great deal of light. Thankfully, Fitz seemed to know where he was going, but Jemma couldn’t help feeling somewhat lost as the dirt path snaked between two hills and around patches of forest.

They couldn’t have been walking that long, perhaps half an hour, when they topped another hill, thick with heather. Below them, a little farmstead was spread out. There were neat fences, both of stone and wood, a small cottage and low barn, and a chicken coop.

She grabbed Fitz’s arm, halting him.

“I know it’s not much,” he said, not looking at her.

Jemma wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. How long was it going to take him to realize she wasn’t nearly so hung up on pretty dresses and fine china as he seemed to think she was? “But, Fitz, it’s home. Our home.”

He turned toward her then, and slowly a wide smile spread across his face. “Welcome home, Jemma.”

****

Fitz had Toby herd the sheep into the one fenced pasture he had, then instructed the dog to keep watch.

“I’ll give you an extra bit of breakfast,” he told Toby, briefly scratching his ears. Fitz looked at the yellow light coming from the house’s window, but if he alerted his mum as to what was going on, he and Jemma would never make the smithy’s. He hadn’t said a word to his mum about Jemma when he’d stopped by to resupply on his way to the pastures on the other side of the farm. There was nothing he could tell her, though his mum had remarked on how down he was.

Later would be soon enough for introductions. Fitz stowed his gear and Jemma’s bags near the front of the barn and led out his Clydesdale mare. He bridled her as Jemma stroked her neck.

“Her name’s Tullie, she’s a gentle as a lamb and doesn’t spook at anything.”

“Aren’t you a beauty,” Jemma said, leaning against the horse’s shoulder. Tullie turned and rubbed her head carefully against Jemma, who laughed and scratched between the horse’s eyes.

Fitz moved to the mare’s side and cupped his hands. “Up you go,” he said to Jemma. She placed her foot in his hands, and he easily lifted her onto Tullie’s back. Fitz had been worried that a lady would be put out by being bareback on a draft animal, but Jemma looked quite at home. She scooted towards Tullie’s tail to give Fitz room to grab her mane and hop up. Once he was seated, Jemma snuggled up against his back and put an arm around his waist.

He nudged Tullie with his heel, and the mare trotted away from the farm and down the lane.

“Is this alright?” he asked Jemma. Tullie’s gait was smooth, but he wasn’t the one with the questionable stomach.

“It’s fine,” Jemma said, kissing his shoulder. “But thank you for being concerned.”

Fitz put his hand over hers. “It’s like a dream, you being here. I’m worried I’ll wake up and find I’m lying beside a fire that’s gone cold and our day to meet will still be a week away.”

She pinched his thigh with her free hand, hard, making him yelp.

“Not a dream,” she said softly. “Just you and me.”

She made it sound as if they needed nothing else, but he knew there would be a great deal the babe would need, a wife as well. He didn’t even possess the object that should signify their bond.

“I haven’t got a ring,” he said, then dragged a hand down his face. “I haven’t got much of anything. This isn’t what you should be having for a wedding. You deserve more than a fugitive marriage in the middle of the night.” He wanted to give her the world.

“None of that,” she said, voice chiding. “I chose you. I’m not going to miss fancy things, or the nerves I get at a luncheon, let alone a ball. All I wanted during every single one of those events was a quiet corner and someone who would talk to me like a person. I didn’t realize the entire time who I was wishing for was you.”

Fitz’s chest tightened. He really had no idea what her life had been like. It was as if she was a bird, flitting about the heavens, and he was a badger that had tricked her into living under the ground. Sooner or later she’d miss the sky.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Jemma said. “It’s wrong.”

Dammit, how did she do that?

“Just worry about tonight,” she said, pressing her lips to his neck this time.

“Still don’t have a ring,” he said. It was hard to remain grumpy with her warmth wrapped around his back, the curve of her breasts—and god, her belly— pressing against him.

He was going to be a father.

That was terrifying.

“I think I can take care of the ring part,” Jemma said. “Depending on your smith.” Her fingers stroked his stomach, making him suck in a breath. “And I know this is an odd situation, but I’m determined to be happy. I’m marrying the man I love.”

Fitz trembled. He still wasn’t sure this wasn’t a dream.

The smithy was at the edge of town, and Fitz was relieved to see the glow of fire coming from the forge. Mack was seated beside it, explaining something to his apprentice. Fitz glanced back at Jemma, wondering if he should have explained who Mack was and if Jemma would react badly to him. Most people in their hamlet were used to the tall black man, who’d fled from who knows what horrors in the American South.

Fitz ground tied Tullie and helped Jemma down from her back. He took Jemma’s hand and led her to Mack.

“Hey, Turbo, what’s going on, and who you got with you?”

“Mack, this is Jemma,” Fitz said. “And Jemma, this is our smith, Mack.”

“Hello,” she said, her smile wide and warm. Fitz figured he should have known Jemma wouldn’t turn her nose up at anyone.

“Hello, Jemma.” Mack darted his gaze between Fitz and Jemma. “What can I help you with?”

“Er…” Fitz coughed and tried again. “I know you don’t have a great love of the English,” Fitz said in a low voice. “And I knew you’d be awake.”

Mack raised a brow.

Fitz squeezed Jemma’s hand. “We need you to marry us.”

Mack’s other eyebrow raised as his wife, Elena, came rushing out the door of their house.

“She’s from Central America,” Fitz whispered to Jemma, wondering if she understood any of the Spanish Elena was speaking in rapid fire to her husband.

Mack chuckled and grinned at his wife. “Apparently, I’m to help in whatever manner is needed. Elena, this is Jemma, who Fitz here has somehow convinced to marry him. Jemma, this is my wife, Elena.”

Elena looked Jemma up and down and nodded decisively. “Jemma, you come with me,” Elena said, beckoning. “I’ll redo your hair. And look at those ribbons, perfecto.”

Fitz glanced, puzzled, at Jemma’s hair, it’d been too dark before, but now in the light of the forge, he could see the pattern on the ribbons holding it in place. She was wearing his family’s colors. A wave of love swamped his chest.

“Are they the correct ones?” Jemma asked, curling the end of one of the ribbons around her finger. “I wasn’t sure.”

“She’s English?” Mack asked, voice tight.

“About to be Scottish,” Elena retorted, patting his arm. Mack relaxed.

“They are the right colors,” Fitz said to Jemma. “It makes me…I don’t even know.” He cupped her cheek. “I like seeing you in them.”

Pink tinged her cheeks, but then her eyes widened. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” She reached into a hidden pocket of her dress and pulled out a long gold chain and held it out towards Mack. “Can you heat this to make a wedding ring? Whatever is left you can keep as payment.”

Fitz put his hands on his hips. He’d never seen that much gold in his entire life.

Mack and Elena shared a look. “Think so,” Mack said slowly, taking the chain. “Not my usual area of expertise, but metal is metal. Let me measure your finger.” Mack sized Jemma’s ring finger, and Elena put a hand on her back and hustled Jemma towards the house.

Fitz leaned against the edge of a workbench.

“Flint,” Mack said, calling his apprentice, who Fitz had nearly forgotten was there. “Go find the sheriff, Davis will need to be here for this.” The boy nodded and took off running. Fitz hoped he wouldn’t be long in locating Davis. The sooner Fitz and Jemma were married, the better.

“You going to tell me how come you’re marrying an English girl in the middle of the night?” Mack said. He dropped the gold chain into a pot of some kind and put that over the coals of the forge so the gold would melt.

“I’m not sure I should.”

Mack fixed him with a glare. “I ain’t going to be spreading rumors.”

Fitz knew that. If there was anyone he could trust, it was Mack. He studied the floor of the shop, stalling as Mack pulled a mold for the ring down from the wall.  

“She’s Jemma Simmons,” Fitz finally said.

Mack set the mold down with a clang. “Wait…that’s Lord Simmons’ daughter? You’re eloping with the Simmons girl?”

“Well…yes…you see…” Fitz’s cheeks were burning like the coals in the forge.

Mack watched him as he checked on the heating gold, then crossed his arms. “Out with it.”

“We’re having a baby,” Fitz blurted, immediately looking heavenward and clenching his fists. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

Mack started laughing.

“It isn’t funny,” Fitz snapped.

“Yes, it is.” Mack smothered his mirth as he pulled the gold from the fire, tapped it against the edge of his forge, and poured in into the waiting mold.

Fitz snorted. It wasn’t humorous in the least.

Mack set his tools down and came to put a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “It is. You know I call you Turbo because you’re the most peaceful man I know—”

“And because I’m short, at least compared to you.”

“Everyone is short compared to me, but I have to say, you are the last person on earth who I figured would somehow get a high-born lady to roll in the hay with them, and for her end up in the family way. I’m sort of proud of you.”

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck as Mack returned to the mold to check it. “I’m not sure, but I think I should feel insulted.”

Mack chuckled.

“And Jemma…she’s not just some roll in the hay.”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, she’s…first time she met me, quite by chance, she looked at my drawings of locomotive engines, and she knew just what I needed to figure out the next part of my design. Jemma’s brilliant.”

Mack picked up a chisel. “She understood what’s in your books?”

“She more than understood, she helped me improve my designs.”

Mack wedged the chisel into the mold. “Sounds like you love her.”

“I never want to be anywhere but by her side.”

Mack broke open the mold and spent a few minutes with a small saw and file before crossing the room, dropping the gold band into Fitz’s hand and closing his fingers over it. “God willing, may you never be anywhere else. Congratulations, Fitz.”

“Thank you.” The ring was still faintly warm in his palm.

Mack returned to the forge, looking pleased with whatever remained of the melted down gold chain.

Elena appeared with a bundle of fabric in her hands, but without Jemma. Fitz looked towards the house.

“She’s washing her face,” Elena said, patting his arm. “No...how do you say? Feet that are frio? She won’t close her mouth about you.”

Fitz ducked his head but was relieved to hear Jemma wasn’t reconsidering being his wife.

“Stand up straight,” Elena said. He did as she shook out the cloth in her hands. “This was part of a payment my husband accepted, but what are we to do with it?” It was a length of fabric, hemmed with the ends sewn together, and in his family’s colors. The blue plaid with yellow and black never failed to make him proud of his heritage. Elena put it over his head and arranged it over one shoulder and across his chest. “Not a kilt, but it will do.”

Fitz smoothed the cloth down. “Thank you.”

“And keep it. Jemma can sew blankets for your niño.”

“Er, thank you.”

“I found him!” Flint called, reentering the smithy with Davis in tow. Fitz put the ring in the pocket of his jacket.

“There’s a wedding?” Davis asked, shaking Mack’s hand.

“Fitz here got himself a girl,” Mack said, gesturing at Fitz.

“You did?” Davis’ mouth fell open, and Fitz felt more than a little peeved. Davis was an American as well, had shown up at the same time Mack and Elena had. Though unlike Mack, what Davis was running from was less clear, but the town hadn’t cared. When the previous sheriff had retired, Davis had been a shoo-in to fill the spot. People simply trusted him, and for good reason. The man was as honest as the day was long.

What Fitz did know about Davis was that where he came from a great many people believed him dead and for good reason, along with the fact that he hated the English. Fitz should probably prepare him to meet Jemma.

“My bride’s English,” Fitz blurted at the sheriff.

Davis’s brow wrinkled. “How did that happen?”

Flint appeared at Fitz’s elbow with paper, ink, and a pen. “You have to write out for the sheriff that you’re married.”

Fitz set the items on an empty workbench and began writing a simple declaration, leaving a blank spot for Jemma to fill in her name.

“Well?” Davis asked after a moment.

“It just did,” he said, not sure he wanted to explain.

Flint piped up. “She’s really pretty.”

Fitz smiled.

“Where did you even find her?” Davis’ face was still scrunched up.

Fitz signed his name to the contract and blew on the ink to help it dry faster. Seeing his name and the words written out that stated he and Jemma were husband and wife, it made his heart ache. Everything suddenly seemed too bright and loud, including the fire’s light, and the sound of his own breath.

“I love her,” he said, leaning against the workbench.

“I love you too,” Jemma said from beside him. He turned towards her, relieved she was there. She looked lovely, but then, she always did. Elena had found flowers somewhere, and there was a white splay of tiny blossoms in her hair, and she was clutching a bouquet of pink and red roses. She set the flowers down and took the pen from him, filling in her name and signing the bottom with a flourish.

“Might I ask who you are?” Davis said.

Fitz put a hand on her elbow as they turned towards him.

“I’m Jemma Simmons,” she said softly.

Davis looked completely gobsmacked.

“That’s why I’m glad you’re you, Davis,” Fitz said. “When her parents come asking questions—”

“They won’t hear a thing from me, I certainly won’t know of an English—" Davis emphasized the word “—girl named Jemma. Now if they ask for a Scottish lass named Jemma Fitz, my hands will be tied.”

Beside him, Jemma gasped under her breath. Fitz glanced at her, but her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. He put an arm around her waist.

“I’m going to be your wife,” she said, sounding very happy.

Joy raced through him. “And I your husband.”

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Mack said.

Jemma picked up her flowers, and Elena steered Fitz to the middle of the room. Jemma joined him there.

“Um, what do I do?” she asked Elena.

Elena put a hand on her shoulder. “Your man makes vows. You make vows. You say you are esposo y esposa, and you are.”

“Much easier than Church of England,” Jemma muttered. Elena went to stand beside Mack, and Jemma turned towards Fitz. She clasped his hand and raised it between them. He intertwined his fingers with hers.

He wondered if he was supposed to go first, but Jemma took a deep breath. She looked very nervous.

“Fitz, um, Leopold James Fitz, since the first time I sat beside you I knew I never wanted to be anywhere else. From this day forward, I’m hoping I never have to be. Life will not always be easy, but I vow to be your wife through whatever adventures will come our way as we build our family and home together. You are my heart. I love you.”

His throat was tight. Fitz could see the love in her warm eyes.

He puffed out a breath. Alright. He had to do this. He kept his gaze locked on hers and his fingers tightly entwined with hers.

“Jemma Anne Simmons, I never dared to dream of someone as wonderous as you being in my life. I’m looking forward to every minute of our lives together, raising children and arguing, or discussing as you put it—” She smiled, and his heart flipped in his chest “—about as many topics as we can for as many years as are given to us. The best day of my life was the one I first met you, until today when you become my wife. I know I am the luckiest man in the world. You are my heart. I love you.”

Fitz fished the ring out of his pocket and slid it onto her finger. Both their hands were trembling. “With this ring, I thee wed.” He hoped she never had cause to remove it.

He took a deep breath.

It was done.

He wrapped Jemma in a hug.

“Don’t forget to kiss your bride!” Mack called.

Feeling shy, Fitz took a step back and gripped her shoulders. He licked his lips, but it was Jemma who leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Eagerly he kissed her, pulling him against her with a hand around her back.

“We’re married?” she asked against his lips, sounding breathless.

“You’re married!” Flint yelled, and Fitz tilted his head back, eyes closed as he basked in the sheer bliss of the moment. They were married.

“Better take your wife home soon,” Davis said. “It’s getting late.”

Fitz tugged Jemma into another hug, not ready to move. He could scarcely believe they were joined.

Davis was having Mack, Elena, and Flint sign the marriage declaration as witnesses. When they were done, Davis rolled it up.

“You’re all legal now. Congratulations.” He slapped Fitz on the back as he walked by.

Jemma yawned. “Thank you. Thank you to everyone.”

Reluctantly, Fitz let Jemma go. “Thank you,” he echoed. They did need to get home. It’d been a long, amazing day, but as giddy as he felt, it really was late, and soon he was going to need to rest. Jemma even more so with the baby.

They said their goodbyes and returned to Tullie, who was sleeping with one rear leg cocked. She awoke with a snort and nuzzled Jemma. Fitz helped her onto the horse, and, after mounting, turned Tullie back towards his farm.

Jemma rested her head against his back as she clasped his waist.

“I have a great deal to figure out about living on a farm,” she said. “I don’t suppose my slight skills at embroidery will be much use anymore. I do know how to darn a sock.”

“My socks will be glad of that. And no worries, I don’t expect you to know everything. I can fry up breakfast as well as you. And I’m sure my mum can teach you what you wish to learn.”

Jemma went stiff. “Oh, Fitz, your mum. I didn’t…is she going to be very mad at me for wedding you without her there?”

“Perhaps a little, she’ll be angrier with me, but I had no way to bring her along, and if I introduced you to her first we’d still be there while she asked questions, and we needed to move fast. She’ll forgive us once she realizes we’ll shortly be making her a grandmother.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“When have I ever been wrong?”

“Do I need to remind you of that article where you thought that the author had been setting off dynamite with squids instead of squibs?”

“Oh, you bloody well know, wife, that I simply misread that. When else?”

“Do you want me to answer that, husband?”

“Probably not.”

Jemma poked his ribs, but he could feel her smile against his neck as she kissed him.

The rest of the ride through the silvery moonlight and shadows, with the scents of late summer flowers and trees wafting in the air, was the sort of thing fairy tales were made of.

He was bringing his wife home.

His wife and child. It seemed impossible that heaven should bestow such joy to as simple a man as him, but the clasp of Jemma’s arms around his waist kept him anchored, and he let himself enjoy the feeling of being close to her.

He was slightly ashamed that her wedding night had already occurred up against a tree, not that Jemma had seemed to mind, and now he had a lifetime to love her properly. That was a very comforting thought.

At the farm, he helped Jemma down, and she waited while he settled Tullie back into her stall with an extra scoop of oats in thanks.

Toby barked once at him from the pasture gate as Fitz walked to put an arm around Jemma. He whistled for the dog to continue watching the sheep and Toby disappeared back amongst them.

Fitz ushered Jemma to the door of his house, hoping she wouldn’t be horribly upset with its simplicity.

He raised his hand to the latch, but it was yanked open from inside.

His mum stood there, glowering, with a robe wrapped around her thin frame.

“Leo, what is going on? Why did you bring the sheep back? Where did you take Tullie? Who is this?” His mum asked in rapid succession.

“This is Jemma, mum…we…” he sputtered and tightened his hold on Jemma. “We’re having a baby and we just got married.”


	7. Happiness Is

This was not going well.

Jemma smiled at Fitz’s mum, whose name she didn’t know and who was currently standing in the doorway to the stone cottage and staring dumbfounded at her son.

“Excuse me?” she asked after a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Jemma said when Fitz didn’t seem able to find his tongue. “We had to rush things tonight to make sure my parents wouldn’t be able to easily make a claim on my person.”

Fitz’s mum’s head swiveled towards Jemma with a dawning look of horror. “You’re English?”

Jemma’s shoulders slumped. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t understood the English were not terribly appreciated in Scotland, but she was starting to feel like she had some dread disease.

“Mum, this is my wife, Jemma, and Jemma, this is my mum, Alice.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jemma said politely. Alice’s eyes dropped, and Jemma looked down. Without realizing it, she’d put a hand on her belly and was cradling the small bump there.

“I think I need to sit down,” Alice said, retreating into the cottage and sinking into a wooden chair, her arms crossed on the scarred surface of the only table.

Jemma started to take a step to follow, but Fitz’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“I know it’s a bit unusual,” he said to her. “But you’re still my bride, and I want to do at least one thing right.” Jemma squealed and hooked an elbow around his neck as he swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. He set her down on the floorboards inside and hugged her briefly.

She looked around the interior of the cottage. The walls were whitewashed wood, and a potbellied stove sat in one corner. There was a separate oven with a slate sink sitting on a simple wood pedestal beside it, along with a butter churn. There was a spinning wheel in one corner, and dried herbs hung from the wooden beams of the ceiling. Two doors led to what Jemma guessed were bedrooms.

Everything was clean and tidy, and she smiled when she saw a small bookshelf. There were only a few things on it, but it still gladdened her heart.

“Leo,” Alice said from where she was sitting. “I simply cannot understand. When have you had time to woo any lass? You’ve been with the sheep.”

“That’s where I met her. You remember at the start of summer I moved the flock to those couple acres near the Simmons’ manor?”

“Aye,” his mum said, raising shrewd eyes to regard Jemma. “Met some serving girl shirking her duties, did you?”

Jemma did not know exactly what Alice was implying, but judging by her tone it wasn’t good, and the serving girl part made no sense at all.

“Mum—” Fitz tried to break in.

Alice continued as if he hadn’t said anything, turning accusing eyes on Jemma. “I don’t know what you hope to gain, but whatever it is, your charms won’t work on me. My son is not some stepping stone, and if you think you’re going to sit around this house acting like the Queen of Sheba, you should know you have me to contend with.”

Jemma’s shoulders slumped. Fitz was staring at his mum with his mouth hanging open. Jemma had hoped to be done with expectations and feeling like she didn’t belong, but she should have known better.

“I should go get some of our things,” she mumbled, turning towards the door. Fitz’s hand caught her arm.

“I…Mum!” he said. “This…she’s my wife! And I apologize again. Maybe we can have a church wedding later to make up for needing to be quick. Everyone can be there, but you can’t—” He dragged a hand down his face.

Alice was glaring at Jemma. “I still don’t understand the speed.”

Fitz looked heavenward and sighed. “Mum, this is Jemma Simmons, we needed to get the legal part done so her father couldn’t simply show up and take her away.”

Alice’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open as she put a hand over her heart.

“I know I have a lot to learn about a great many things,“ Jemma said. “But I know I can, and I most certainly don’t plan on just sitting around.” She knew how to manage a house or estate, but not the day to day tasks. Though there’d always been a rhythm for laundry and when things were cleaned. She would need to develop a system.

Alice’s face had paled. “You married the Simmons’ daughter?”

“Yes. I love her.” Fitz’s voice was calm and steady, and his fingers squeezed Jemma’s arm.

She turned towards him. “I love you too.” She reached up and ran her fingers over his cheek. Exhaustion hit her, and she swayed on her feet. Fitz pulled out one of the chairs and directed her into it. “I just said I’m not going to sit around.”

He knelt beside her. “It’s very late. You’re carrying a child. Let me get our things, and we can put them away tomorrow.”

“I still don’t understand how you met,” Alice asked, sounding bewildered.

“I was being dramatic and had run off to have a cry because my parents wanted to marry me off to a beastly man,” Jemma said, her eyes on Fitz’s. “Fitz saw me and offered his fire while I got myself together. He was writing in his journal, and I insisted I have a look, which he was kind enough to give, and I realized he was brilliant, but needed a few equations.”

“Which she promptly gave me,” Fitz said, smiling at her.

“I’d never met someone who I could just talk to.”

“Me either.” Fitz pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, rose, and headed out the door.

Jemma fisted the material of her skirt, not wanting to look at Alice.

“I…you…” Alice fumbled for words. “You understand what’s in his books?”

“He’s very clever,” Jemma said. “If only there were a way to get his ideas in front of someone from the railroads.” She sighed and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the rising nausea. Why did the baby have to have a say now?

“Are you alright, dear?” Alice asked, her chair scraping against the floor.

Jemma nodded. “Sorry, I seem to not have morning sickness so much as whenever during the day it’ll be most inconvenient sickness.” A wave of heat and ill feeling rolled through her. “I hate to be a bother, but do you have something I can use if I do bring anything back up?”

“Yes, of course.” There were a few noises as Alice moved around the cottage. Jemma opened her eyes as Alice pressed a large wooden bowl into her hands and brushed her hair away from the back of her neck. Alice pressed a cool cloth there.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I…my son, is all I have, and while I’ve been badgering him to find a wife because I won’t be around forever, I’ve also been very concerned that any girl that would marry him would only see that he’s got a bit of land, not who he truly is. And so I made assumptions when I heard that he’d hurried to the altar with you.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t there.” Jemma truly was. “I’d be upset if my child married without me there to see.”  She put a hand over her belly.

“Nonsense,” Alice said. “You did what you had to. And a marriage isn’t a few moments of stuttered vows. It’s every day after.”

Happiness filled Jemma’s chest. Her every day after now included a husband she loved.

Alice laughed softly. “That smile warms my heart. I should have known Leo would be too smart to fall for a woman that didn’t understand him.” She turned the cloth over, and the cool press of it helped Jemma’s stomach settle.

“I do have a great deal to learn,” Jemma said. “I don’t think my skills at walking around with a book balanced on my head are going to be of much use here.”

Alice smiled. “I look forward to teaching you. I have so many secrets, about how to get dough to rise so your bread is always soft, how to get all kinds of stains out, when the best day of the year is for planting a garden…a lifetime’s worth of knowledge that I didn’t have a daughter to share with.”

Jemma took her hand. Alice’s skin was rough, her knuckles large, even though Jemma didn’t think Alice could be much more than fifty. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m looking forward to many grandchildren I can spoil. Speaking of, and I realize this question is a bit forward, but do you know how far along you are?”

Jemma’s face started burning. “Well, I…I think I might be about nine weeks.”

Alice’s eyebrows shot up.

“We…erm, we figured out we were compatible rather quickly, you see.”

Alice threw her head back and laughed. “I would have never believed my shy and quiet boy would somehow manage to fall head over heels in love with an English lady and she with him, or that he would be brave enough to get your skirts up around your ears, well, ever.”

Jemma’s face was positively burning at Alice’s wicked smile.

Fitz stumbled back in, loaded down with their combined belongings. He looked between his mum and Jemma. “Feel like I missed something.”

“Your bride is a remarkable woman,” Alice said.

“I know that.”

Alice laughed again. “I’m sure you do since she’s breeding.”

It was Fitz’s turn to blush.

Alice put her hands on her hips as Fitz dumped everything into a pile on the floor. “What do you plan to do with the sheep?”

“There’s enough good hay to feed them for a day or two. Jemma has a bit of coin, so I thought to hire the neighbor’s boy to go out with them. He’s trustworthy and in need of a job.”

“Ah,” Alice replied. “An even better reason for me to spend several days with Hattie than the excuses I was coming up with. I’ll go over in the morning to give them the good news.”

“Several days?” Fitz asked. Jemma stood but didn’t let go of the bowl in her hands. Her stomach was settling down for now, but she’d keep it with her because daylight might not find her so comfortable.

“Yes, yes,” Alice said, waving a hand. “You have a new bride. You both deserve a little time alone in your home to become…comfortable, in your new life, without tripping over an old lady. I’ll send the boy just before evening tomorrow, and he can take the sheep out the next morning.”

“Thank you.” Jemma was flabbergasted, and she shared a look with a stunned Fitz. But then she yawned.

“Yes, thank you, mum,” Fitz said, crossing the room to put an arm around Jemma.

“Time for us all to rest,” Alice said, and Jemma was grateful, though still embarrassed, as Fitz directed her into the room that was obviously his. There were hooks for his clothes, a wood trunk, and a bed much smaller than her own with a simple wood frame.

“I’m sorry it’s not much,” Fitz said as he hung his jacket up.

“You’re here, so it’s perfect.” Jemma didn’t know how far to strip down, and her nightgown was tucked away in a bag, but she ended up in only her shift, standing on the sheepskin rug beside the bed. Fitz, wearing a long night shirt, pulled back the linens sheet and knitted blanket and got in. He scooted over, and she laid down beside him. There were a few moments as they worked out how to arrange themselves. They ended up on their sides, facing each other, their heads close together on the pillow and their legs entangled. Fitz started with a hand over her side, but it quickly dropped down and his fingers spread out to encompass the small swell of their growing child.

She’d never fallen asleep more at peace.

****

Fitz awoke the next morning with a start, confused for a moment as to why he was inside. Then another body shifted in the bed and the entire unbelievable day before came rushing back to him.

He was married.

Jemma was his wife.

They were starting a family.

Fitz knew he was grinning like an idiot as he watched Jemma slumber. How many times had he dreamed of exactly this situation? Waking up with Jemma in his life for good? Love and joy warred inside him, and he nuzzled her soft cheek. Her eyes blinked open, and she smiled at him.

“Good morning, wife,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

“Good morning, husband.”

He was sure his heart beat only for her.

A crease appeared between her brows, her face became grey, and she rolled out of the bed onto her knees, grasped the bowl she’d left beside the bed as she heaved.

Guilt ripped into him. Jemma looked so miserable, and it was his fault, for not keeping his bloody trousers on.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, dressing as Jemma nodded, still huddled over the bowl. He headed into the main part of the house, the sound of another round of retching following him. His mum, an enigmatic smile on her face, was waiting beside the wash basin.

She held out a tin mug of water and a soaked rag. “Poor dear, this should help.  I’ve milked the cow and collected eggs for this morning, and there’s a loaf of bread cooling. You just need to pitch the hay to the sheep and put Tullie out to pasture.”

Fitz took the mug and rag from her.

“And don’t look like that,” his mum chided. “She’ll be fine, right as rain and hungry as a horse in an hour or so. I’m off to the neighbors, is what the boy asked for what you plan to pay?”

“Er, yes. Actually, offer him a bit more as a bonus if none of the sheep are lost.”

Alice nodded and picked up a small bag. “Give my good wishes to Jemma, and Fitz, all of this will be forgotten quickly when the babe arrives, so stop fretting.”

That was easier said than done.

He returned to Jemma, kneeling beside her. It wasn’t as easy to push aside his feeling as his mum made it sound when Jemma was so obviously miserable. He pressed the rag to her neck like the night before, and Jemma sighed in relief. She rinsed her mouth, but then frowned at the bowl.

“I need to clean it out,” she said. “And get dressed.”

He helped her stand. “I’ll get you your clothes and…I suppose I should show you the water pump.”

Not knowing which bag held her clothes, he brought her all off them, setting them on the bed. Jemma put on a dress plainer than any he’d seen her wear, though the dark green color looked good on her. She swept her hair up and pinned it in place.

Once her stocking and shoes were on, he carried the bowl—very far away from himself—and showed her where the pump to the farm’s well was.

“Water’s good and clean,” he said, manning the lever so she could rinse the bowel out. “And my mum brought a bucket to the house already this morning.” Jemma, finished with the bowl, quickly rinsed out her mouth and splashed water on her face.

“Where is she?”

“Already gone, though she wished you the best, and she’s got stuff ready for our breakfast when you’re feeling better.”

Jemma bit her lip. “I’m starving.”

He chuckled. Maybe his mum had been right. Jemma looked perfectly fine now, as she took in the little farmstead in daylight. He tried to see it through her eyes, but the world she was coming from was so unimaginable he couldn’t, except to think it had to be smaller and dirtier than what she was used to.

But it was unfair to think her thoughts for her.

“What does it look like to you?” he asked.

“It looks like home,” she said, and he was startled. “It feels like this place has been here forever, and will be long after we’re gone. I can’t wait to see autumn mist creeping over the hills, or deep winter snows blanketing it, or spring rains making it green and muddy. I want to see our babies running and playing in the fields.”

He put his arms around her, and she leaned against him.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“Jemma,” he whispered, kissing her forehead, and then her lips as she tilted her face up.

She pulled back a moment later. “I need you to know that I very much want to be here, with you. Sometimes I’m probably going to be at my wit's end and frustrated, or angry, or any one of a number of emotions, but that doesn’t mean I’m wishing I was somewhere else, or with someone else. I’m so afraid you’re going to interpret my every frown as meaning something it doesn’t.”

Fitz leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s somewhat unfair how you can read my mind.”

She smiled. “I believe we can be happy, here, or wherever life takes us.”

He slid his hands down her sides and then to her belly. “I’m just going to be preemptively sorry for all the times I seem a sourpuss. You make me believe in happiness.”

He kissed her again, and she tasted like joy.

****

Jemma didn’t even try to stop herself from giggling as Fitz, gesturing wildly, told her a story about the one time held stolen something—a book, not surprisingly—and the lengths he’d gone to as he ran and hid, though he figured now nobody had seen him. He still had the book, it talked about digging canals, which sounded uninteresting, but to fourteen old him it’d been exciting.

It hadn’t been much later than that when he’d started work at the docks to feed him and his mum, and that sounded hideous. She was glad he’d inherited the farm, not the least because it meant he was in her life.

They finished their dinner, a simple affair that he’d shown her how to cook, though she wasn’t sure she would know when the vegetables were done as easily as he had, and now they were talking about their childhoods as several candles blazed merrily on the table.

She told him the story about the pony that had been determined to get her off it’s back, though it’d been so short that Jemma had never been hurt by the fall, and the infuriating pony had always seemed to laugh at her. That had been before she’d been regulated to sedate mares and geldings and learned to ride sidesaddle.

Fitz had been impressed and was now regaling her with the end of the book theft story. His eyes were merry, and she was still so surprised by how much she loved him. She loved the haphazard way his hair curled, and the lines at the corners of his eye, how he—

Toby barked loudly, and they both jumped.

“Maybe he’s barking at Sammy,” Fitz said. The neighbor’s boy had taken his dinner and gone to where he was bedded down in the barn. He’d be leaving at first light and had worried sleeping inside would mean he’d miss it.

Toby barked again, louder, then growled at the same time there was a banging on the front door. Jemma stood and edged to where she wouldn’t be able to be seen by whoever was at the front door.

Fitz pulled it open a few inches. “It’s late to be knocking on doors,” he said to whoever was on the other side.

“Is Jemma here? I was told this was the Fitz farm.” It was Bobbi’s voice.

“Jemma who?” Fitz asked.

“Jemma Simmons.”

“No Jemma Simmons here.” Fitz’s tone was cold. “So you can just shove off.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone where she is,” Bobbi's words were firm. “I just want to know that she’s doing alright.”

Jemma peeked around the door, her hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “It’s safe,” Jemma whispered to him. “She helped me leave.”

Bobbi, holding up a lantern and swathed in a dark shawl, smiled wildly. “Jemma!”

“Please come in,” Jemma said, tugging a scowling Fitz away from the door.

“Oh, we’re just going to tell anybody where you are then,” he grumbled.

She patted his arm as Bobbi entered the cottage and put her lantern on the table, bathing the room in a great deal more light. She dropped her shawl next to it and crossed her arms as she studied Fitz.

“So this is your Mr. Fitz?” she asked.

Fitz continued to frown and glare. “Don’t mind him,” Jemma said and held up her left hand. “And he wasn’t lying. Jemma Simmons doesn’t live here.”

Bobbi gasped. “You married him!”

Jemma nodded, and Fitz expression softened slightly. Bobbi studied him again, tilting her head to the side. She looked like she was appraising a cut of meat.

“I’ve been a terrible influence,” she said at last.

Fitz’s eyes darted to Jemma.

“Why’s that?” Jemma asked.

“He looks like Hunter.”

“He does not lo…” Jemma trailed off as she studied Fitz. “Maybe a little?”

“Who’s Hunter?” Fitz said, sounding alarmed.

Bobbi waved a hand. “My good for nothing husband.”

“Oh.”

“Well.” Bobbi glanced around the cottage. “This place is smaller than Jemma’s bedroom at the manor.”

Jemma felt Fitz bristle.

“So you had better be a good lay to make up for her having to live here.”

Fitz sputtered.

“Be nice,” Jemma hissed at Bobbi.

Bobbi snorted. “Fine, I’m certain you’re very good in the sack, Fitz, as you charmed the woman I least expected to ever care about a man right into having a baby and being your wife. Very impressive. Congratulations.”

Fitz’s face was bewildered. “Thank you, I think.”

Bobbi plopped herself down in one of the chairs at the table. “Here, Jemma, I brought you this. Heaven knows when you’ll be able to get more.” Bobbi pulled a crockery container out of a bag slung over her shoulder, untied the twine holding it closed, and opened the top. The sweet, lemony scent hit Jemma, and she squealed loud enough that Toby barked again.

She hurled herself across the room and snatched the container away from Bobbi, sat in a chair, and gratefully took the spoon Bobbi held out. She dug in, letting the custard melt on her tongue while making noises that were probably obscene.

Fitz made a face. “What’s that?”

“Lemon custard. Jemma’s been craving it.”

Jemma ignored both of them as she took another bite.

Fitz sat at the table. “Are they looking for her?” he asked quietly.

“Of course they are,” Bobbie answered. “Jemma’s their only child.” Fitz scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is the marriage binding?” Bobbi asked.

“Yeah, yeah, properly recorded with the Sheriff.”

“Ah, that would explain his smug smile while Jemma’s father badgered him. He kept saying he didn’t know the whereabouts of any English lass named Jemma Simmons. No one thought to ask about a Jemma with a different last name. And I suppose you’re technically a Scot now.”

“I am,” Jemma said before taking another huge bite. The baby really liked custard.

Bobbi hummed something, before fixing Fitz with another glare. “Mr. Fitz, with the sky-blue eyes and the clever mind with lots of ideas about steam engines, and who apparently knows how to make Jemma howl—” Jemma nearly choked on her custard and Fitz became alarmingly pale “—I hope you do the best you possibly can for Jemma. I think she deserves to be awash in furs in dripping in jewels.” Bobbi held up a hand as Jemma paused devouring her custard. “And she’d tell me she’s perfectly fine. I can see that she is. I know her, she can be happy anywhere, but she’s happiest when she has someone that’ll talk to her like the wonderful, smart, human being she is. I think you’ve already mastered that. Just don’t hurt her. Don’t forget why you love her, not tomorrow, now when she’s hurling pots and pans at you while she’s in labor, and not decades from now when her hair is grey. Or so help me god, I will end you.”

Fitz had shrunk back in his chair. “I believe you. And I will always love her.”

Bobbi nodded, satisfied.

Jemma licked the last of the custard of the spoon. “Thank you for bringing this, Bobbi, and for checking on me. I almost can’t believe they’re not relieved I’m gone.”

Bobbi sighed. “Your mother’s swooning left and right, and you know she enjoys the attention, your father is having a grand time ranting and raving, and Mr. Ward punched a wall, called your father a liar, and stormed back to whatever hole he crawled out of.”

“He’s not looking for her?” Fitz asked, sounding surprised.

“Hardly.”

“But didn’t he want to marry her?”

Bobbi chuckled. “Mr. Fitz, don’t confuse the love you have for Jemma with whatever that man was feeling or thinking. Her disappearing is an inconvenience to him, that’s all.”

“Pillock,” Fitz muttered.

“It was entertaining to watch him throw a tantrum after Jemma brought her dinner back up on him.”

Fitz smiled, and Jemma did as well. It had been a fortunate time for her to be sick.

“Stay close to the farm for a day or two,” Bobbi said. “But your parents are already packing up the manor. They do not want to stay in this, and I quote, ‘dreadful place’ any longer. They might have a couple of the sloughs dragged, but then they’ll be gone. Most likely not to return, judging from the way your mother is yelling.”

Fitz’s face was puzzled. “But…wouldn’t they want to continue searching for their daughter?”

Jemma looked down and traced a finger over a scar on the table’s surface. “They’ll be busy grooming some second cousin to take over the lordship now. My father had gotten some special writ that said it could be passed to my husband, after all, it’s not like it’s a dukedom, but I don’t imagine that’s the case anymore.”

“Sorry, Mr. Fitz, no lordship for you,” Bobbi said.

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “Don’t think I wanted it.”

“He’s a keeper.” Bobbi stood, and Fitz as well. “I plan to send books and articles to you as often as I can. Otherwise, you’ll wilt away up here. They’ll have to go through Hunter, so I don’t know how often I can get them to you, but I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.” Jemma came around the table to hug Bobbi.

“Take care of that baby. I’m going to come to see it after it’s born.” She looked at Fitz. “And you better keep them both safe.”

“I will.” Fitz’s voice was low but full of conviction.

Bobbi left with her lantern, and they shut the door behind her.

“Shall we go to bed, wife?” Fitz asked.

Jemma looked up at him from under her lashes. “Only if you’re planning to make me howl.”


	8. Little Lamb

The holidays, spent in good cheer, had come and gone, along with the New Year. It was a few days into February, and Jemma was feeling every bit eight months pregnant. She’d learned everything Fitz’s mum had been able to teach her and had developed her own routine for keeping the house clean, the chickens happy, and clothes clean and mended.

There’d been a late snowfall, and the temperature had dipped down far enough to keep it on the ground. Alice had been taken in a sleigh to the neighbor’s farmhouse to help with a new baby that had been born there, though only after Jemma had sworn up one side and down the other that she was not about to deliver yet herself.

Fitz was out in the farmyard, doing something to the barn’s roof, which neither Alice or Jemma had thought needed to be attended to as it seemed sound, but Fitz had insisted. After the new year he’d been frantically working on everything he could about the place, and while Jemma was sympathetic because she increasingly had the need to clean things that were already shining, it was starting to drive her around the bend.

It was the time of the year when everyone was waiting for spring. The larder was down to not much, and Jemma had a stew simmering on the stove that she hoped would make the dried mutton and vegetables in it edible.

She was sitting in a rocking chair, determinedly sewing buttons back on a shirt—Fitz was talented at scraping them off— while the baby busily kicked. She was singing softly to it as her fingers moved.

There was banging from the direction of the barn, and Jemma paused, rolling her eyes as she rubbed at her belly.

“Your daddy is being ridiculous,” she told their child, but then smiled. Jemma knew Fitz was constantly worried about how she would react to things, from the yard being muddy after rainstorms to the rooster that determinedly crowed them awake as the sun rose each morning. And while she bodily threatened the rooster quite often, Jemma was, in fact, happy. She was in charge of her days and her little house.

There was a lot of work to do to keep it running, but she found that since she was the one deciding things, she scarcely minded. And when the sun set and Alice lit candles, which Jemma now knew how to make, and they’d gather around the table to read or play card games, it was the most at home Jemma had ever felt. Here, she was a person, not a thing to be primped and taken to a ball to be put on display.

The nights spent in her husband’s arms were even better. There she always felt safe and loved.

Though that intimacy had been lacking the last few weeks.

Jemma dropped her knitting into a basket and sighed. She supposed it was normal for her husband to be somewhat off-put by her growing belly, and he still slept tucked up against her with his arm around her. She had no fear he loved her any less. It was simply inconvenient that her desire had not lessened. She cupped her breasts and squeezed, whimpering slightly at the touch.

The baby had settled down thankfully, and Jemma considered pulling up her skirts and taking care of herself, only it was about the time of day when Fitz would come inside looking for tea and a bite to eat. She wiggled to the edge of the chair and pushed herself up, belly first, before smoothing her plain dress down and walking to the shelves to retrieve the kettle.

Jemma stopped with her hand raised.

It wasn’t exactly fair that she was doing what he wanted when she had her own need. And Fitz did enjoy taking care of her. He’d do a lot more if she’d let him.

She turned and went to their bedroom. Hanging on a peg was the plaid round of fabric Elena had given Fitz. The ribbons from Bobbi were there as well.

Jemma unpinned her bun and quickly brushed out her hair before using one of the ribbons to tie it up in a high ponytail. She pulled off her dress and underthings, even her wool stockings as the house was warm. Taking the plaid down from its hook she shook it out and draped it across herself. It was large enough to loosely cover her breasts and her rear, but with her belly as round as it was the fabric didn’t hide much.

Which Jemma supposed was rather the point.

The front door rattled, and Jemma hurried barefoot back into the main part of the house. Fitz was grumbling and stamping snow from his boots. His back was to her as he pulled his winter gear off. The hat left his curls going every which way, and he tried to smooth them down to little effect.

“Bloody cold out there and the snow’s coming down again,” he groused as he turned around. “I…” He trailed off as he raised his head and caught sight of her. “Jemma?”

Her cheeks warmed, but she only bit her lip and looked steadily back at him.

Fitz’s eyes were wide, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Not tea,” he croaked.

Jemma ducked her head, but she was emboldened by the fact that she could see from the front of his trousers that he was not unaffected. “You haven’t much wanted to…lately, but I still do. I thought since we’re alone…” She was having a great deal more trouble saying what she wanted than she thought she would. Which was ridiculous. She was the one who’d told him she desired him in the first place.

Fitz was across the room and gathering her into his arms before she could say anything else. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the end of her nose, and at last her lips. It was easy to get lost in the soft press of his mouth against hers. His hands slid down her back to cup her ass and pull her firmly against him, though her belly was in the way of her rubbing against what she really wanted.

Fitz released her lips and raised his head slightly. “I’m sorry if I was making you feel like I didn’t want you. I’ve been confused myself lately and trying not to maul you because you have to be exhausted. You already do so much and burdening you with how randy seeing you like this makes me—” He shook his head.

Jemma smiled. “Trust me. I’ll never be too tired to make love to you.”

Fitz rested his forehead against hers. “You don’t think it unseemly for a husband to want his wife beyond all reason even though she’s already breeding?”

“I should hope not,” she said. “Not when said breeding wife badly wants her husband. And there’s no one to judge what we do alone. Only us.”

He nodded and stepped back. His eyes swept down her body. “I like how you look.”

“And how do I look?”

He backed her up against the table, and his hand slid under the plaid to palm her breast. “Wrapped in nothing but my colors, belly big with my babe, lips swollen from my kisses…Jemma, you look like you’re mine.” Fitz whispered the last as if it was some great secret.

“I am also married to you, which I think means I’m rather literally yours.” She cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled against her hand.

“I don’t think you could truly belong to anyone but yourself, and certainly not someone as lacking in consequence as I am.” His hand dropped from her breast as his brows drew together.

Jemma fisted the front of his shirt. “If I belong unto myself, then it seems I should be allowed to choose with whom I wish to share myself, and why should I not want such a warm, loving, and handsome man between my thighs?”

His cheeks pinked. “Jemma…”

She tugged him closer, and her hands went to the front of his trousers.

****

Fitz groaned as his wife’s fingers brushed over his erection.

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being with her. Waking up beside her, spending quiet evenings with her, tasting, holding, loving her.

She was a fairy queen, come from another realm and deigning to let him worship her.

He’d spend forever paying her obeisance on his knees.

Fitz kissed her again but stopped her from pulling open his trousers just yet. He grabbed her hips and sat her on the edge of the table. Putting his hands on her inner thighs, he pushed them wide apart as he knelt before her.

Jemma’s breathing hitched, and she leaned back, supporting herself on her hands.

He moved the fabric out of the way and groaned at the sight of her folds glistening with her desire.

There was something else he was never going to get accustomed to, how much she wanted him. Though he supposed she was showing the evidence of their inability to keep away from each other. He put a hand over on the swell of her belly and slowly slid it down until he reached her clit. A single, slight stroke made her moan and jerk her hips.

He leaned forward and replaced his fingers with his tongue, delighting in her unabashed noises of pleasure as he licked her.

Her taste and scent were magnificent, and he pressed his face against her sex, enjoying her pleasure almost as much as he would his own.

“Fitz,” she moaned, and her legs trembled. “Fitz…in!”

He flicked his tongue frantically over her clit as he pressed two fingers deep inside her pussy. Her inner muscles clamped down and his cock pulsed in his trousers, desperate to be buried in her heat.

Just a little more…

A tremor passed through Jemma, and her hips lifted off the table.

“Oh,” she breathed, there was a moment, and then her climax caught her. Her pussy fluttered around Fitz’s fingers, and a fresh rush of cream covered his hand. She didn’t make a sound as she rocked against his tongue.

Fitz was nearly as undone by her pleasure as she was.

****

Jemma’s arms gave out, and she flopped against the table, which was perhaps not the best place for sexual congress, but there was no way she was moving.

Fitz stood, looking pleased with himself, and quickly undid his trousers.

A new spark of lust flared to life inside her as she watched him disrobe. His pants went first, followed by his shirt, and her fingers twitched, wanting to feel her husband and wrap around the firmness of his cock.

She scooted back on the table—which was thankfully a sturdy piece of furniture— as he joined her, crawling until he was situated between her thighs. With the swell of her belly in the way he couldn’t easily kiss her, but his hand trailed up her body, paused to knead her breasts and pluck at her nipples, then continued until he was cupping her cheek. Jemma hooked a leg around his hip, let the other fall to the side so she wasn’t quite lying flat.

His cock brushed over her sex, making her gasp. She pushed herself up enough on one hand to use the other to guide his prick to her opening. She lay back, watching as Fitz’s eyelids slid closed. His chest heaved, and he thrust forward.

He paused, his cock entirely inside her, and she moaned. His thumb grazed her cheek, but then dropped away as he braced both hands on the table.

He began rocking his hips, working up to a rhythm that had the table wobbling and her mewling and writhing. She put her arms over her head and arched her back. Fitz grunted and moved harder.

Peeking at her from under his lashes, he bit his lip. His thrusts were already starting to stutter, and beneath her leg, his muscles were tensing. His brows drew together, and she knew he was fighting his own pleasure, trying to give her more, but she was perfectly content.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Let go, let me feel you.”

He groaned and plunged deep inside her. Then again. Once more and his cock jerked and pulsed with his release. He collapsed onto his side next to her, and she rolled to face him. Tangling his hand in her hair, he pulled her into a kiss. It was fierce, and she inhaled sharply as his fingers released her, only to dive in between her legs and rub frantic circles over her clit.

“Oh,” she gasped against his lips as ecstasy exploded inside her as she peaked. Her entire body undulated with pleasure. At last, Fitz removed his hand from her sex and settled his arm around her. He pillowed his head on his arm as she lay facing him. She put a hand on her belly. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, and Fitz smiled.

“There’s nothing like seeing you in bliss.” His eyes were full of sincerity and enough warmth to take her breath away.

Love for him filled her chest, and she was sure her heart beat only for him. “This was nice,” she said, and Fitz’s hand moved to cover hers on her stomach.

“It was much nicer than tea.”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine what all my so-called friends in London would think of me now.” Fitz’s smile disappeared, but she resisted rolling her eyes. “I don’t think these girls, who took every opportunity to put me down, could possibly comprehend that all the joy in the world is mine while I make love to my husband on our kitchen table during tea-time while snow blankets our home.”

“Jemma,” he whispered and shifted closer to her, making the table wobble again. He sighed. “I really have to fix that.”

“It’s not noticeable when we’re not right on top of it,” she said.

He made a frustrated noise. “But I want everything to be perfect when the baby gets here.”

Jemma nuzzled against him and softly kissed his lips. “Everything is already perfect.”

****

_One month and one week later_

Fitz’s hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t relight the wick of the lantern he’d just accidently put out.

Mack caught his wrists. “I got it,” Mack said, striking a new match and filling the barn with the soft yellow light from the lantern. Tullie was dozing with her head over her stall door. Toby stuck his head in, whined, and left to check on the sheep.

Fitz dragged his hand through his hair for the millionth time.

“You want a biscuit?” Mack asked, popping one in his mouth.

Fitz shook his head and stood, then sat down again.

Mack chuckled.

“It’s not funny,” Fitz grumbled. “I should be with her, what if something happens?”

“The only thing that is going to happen is that before much longer you’ll be a father,” Mack said mildly. Fitz had no idea how he could be so calm.

“She was in so much pain,” Fitz said, standing up once more. Elena and his mum had asked Mack to take him to the barn several hours ago as Jemma’s labor progressed. It was driving him around the bend not being beside her.

“In general, that’s what happens when a babe’s born.” Mack ate another biscuit.

“I’m never touching her again.” Fitz dropped back down on a pile of not very comfortable straw.

Mack snorted.

“I can’t—”

“You might want to ask her before you go deciding that for the two of you,” Mack said. “She left everything she ever knew to be with you, my guess is several months from now she’ll be making eyes at you again, and ten years from now you’ll be wondering exactly how you ended up with so many children underfoot.”

Fitz hunched forward and dropped his head into his hands. He’d known that birth was not a pleasant process, after all he’d had to deal with the ewes lambing, but this was so much worse. He was sinking into despair, thinking of his Jemma wracked with pain. Her agony was at least partly his fault. He should have never left his fire that first night and left her to cry in peace.

Only he couldn’t imagine his world without Jemma in it. Her smile and laughter.

He took a shaky breath. He was so selfish. “If only Jemma hadn’t met me.”

“My understanding is that if she hadn’t fallen in love with you, she’d be married to some oaf that didn’t think she walked on water and she would be bringing that man’s child into the world. The bastard probably wouldn’t leave his gambling hell long enough to even check on her.”

Fitz looked up at Mack.

“Don’t go borrowing trouble,” Mack said. “You’re both happy as pigs in mud, and after tonight you’ll have another little piglet to wallow with you.”

“I am…” Fitz ran his hand down his face. “I am looking forward to watching the child grow.”

“See? It’ll all be fine.”

There was a piercing scream from the house, and Fitz launched himself to his feet. “Jemma!”

He’d barely turned towards the barn door when Mack’s hands landed on his shoulders. “Hold your horses, Turbo. This is a battle you can’t fight for her.”

“Jemma,” he said again, close to panic as a second pained scream followed the first.

Mack held his shoulders tightly. “It’s alright. If there was a problem, Elena or your mum would come and get us. Sit down. Jemma’s healthy and strong, trust her to get through this.”

Fitz sat right where he was, staring at the barn door for what felt like eons. At last, Elena appeared, a huge smile on her face. She gestured at Fitz and he climbed to his feet. “Come, Papá. Your niño is here.” Fitz followed behind her as she walked quickly to the house. Inside, his mum grabbed him for a hug.

“Congratulations,” his mum said. She let him go and beamed as he stumbled over the floor, heading for the bedroom.

Jemma was sitting up in bed, looking tired but with a proud smile on her face. There was a tiny bundle, wrapped in a green knitted blanket in her arms.

It took him a confused second to realize it was their baby. He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, and she shifted the bundle, moving the blanket he could see the child’s face. It was blotchy, red and absolutely beautiful.

“Say hello to your son,” Jemma said, and the little face blurred as tears gathered in Fitz’s eyes.

“Hello,” Fitz said, reaching out to run a finger of the baby’s cheek. “He’s amazing, Jems…you’re amazing.”

“He was a bit of trouble to get here right at the end,” his mum said from the doorway. “But Jemma never gave up. And I very much doubt it’s the last time that boy will be any trouble.”

Jemma laughed softly. “He will never be too much trouble.”

“Can I hold him?” Fitz asked, and Jemma gently laid the baby in his arms. Fitz glanced at his mum, who was wiping tears from her cheeks.

“We’ll be out here if you need anything,” she said, pulling the bedroom door partway closed.

The little boy was heavier than he’d expected as Fitz cuddled him close.

“We still need a name,” Jemma said. They’d decided on a girl’s name easily enough, but not a boy’s. Figured that they’d have a son.

“I still like Rabbie,” he said. Jemma had wanted to name a boy after him, but it’d be a cold day before he saddled such a wee thing with Leopold.

Jemma tilted her head. “Rabbie Fitz doesn’t sound too bad.

“Would you like something more English?”

She snorted. “I think I’ve proven I don’t want anything English.”

Fitz chuckled and wiped a bit of wetness from his cheeks. “Rabbie it is.”

The little boy cracked open sky-blue eyes and looked up at Fitz. There were a few brown curls on the babe’s forehead, much the same color as Jemma’s hair. It seemed to be such a miracle that he existed at all.

Fitz kissed his son’s cheek. “I wish you a bonnie life,” he whispered, passing him back to Jemma, who was tugging aside the front of her nightgown. Rabbie eagerly latched on to his mother’s breast.

“He’s certainly got your appetite,” Jemma said, gazing fondly at Fitz.

He kissed her cheek as well. “Did you expect anything less?”

****

_A year and several months later_

Jemma stirred the vegetables and meat she was making for dinner while the rolls to go with it cooled on a rack. She was extremely proud of her baking skills, and she doubted anyone for twenty miles in any direction could make ones as soft, fluffy, or delicious.

She frowned at Fitz as he stole one and half-heartedly swatted at him with her spoon.

He only grinned at her as he claimed a seat at the table, pulling over one of the books Bobbi had sent. The deliveries were few and far between, so they carefully metered out the reading material to make it last as long as possible.

The book was mostly about mathematical concepts, and as Fitz began reading, Jemma went to stand behind him so she could see the equations. Some of it might have practical applications in the garden as she attempted to convince peas and beans to grow how she wanted them to.

Alice had Rabbie, now a toddler, on her lap.

He listened to his Da read as he played with a stuffed lion Elena had made him. He was round-cheeked and healthy, with thick brown curls that refused to be tamed, his father’s blue eyes, and thankfully—as Alice said— Jemma’s sunny disposition. He’d been the easiest baby and had grown like a weed.

The sheep were already out to pasture along with the neighbor’s boy and Toby, so there was no warning bark before someone knocked on the door.

Fitz shared a glance with Jemma. They weren’t expecting anyone, which usually meant bad news.

Or her parents had figured out where she was.

Jemma returned to the stove and smoothed her dress down as Fitz cracked open the door.

There was a pause as the other person spoke.

“Come in,” Fitz said in response, opening the door wider.

Jemma gasped as a smiling Bobbi entered, followed by Hunter and a man Jemma didn’t know, but who was wearing a smart suit.

“Jemma!” Bobbi cried, and Jemma rushed to her for a hug. It was short lived as Bobbie pushed her back. “Let me see the baby.”

“Not baby,” Rabbie said, frowning.

Bobbi’s mouth fell open. “No, you’re not. Quite a big lad, aren’t you?” She looked at Jemma. “I can’t believe…I’m so sorry it took me so long to get back, I had to wait until Lord Simmons wanted to send anyone north to look at the estate. There’s just a few of us here to make sure things are being taken care of.”

“Thank you for coming.” There were so many questions Jemma wanted to ask. “Bobbi, this is Alice, Fitz’s mother, and Alice, this is my dear friend Bobbi who helped me run off from the manor house the night I married Fitz.” Alice nodded and smiled warmly.

Jemma looked over to where Fitz and Hunter were already talking animatedly about something to do with politics. “The fellow talking to Fitz is Hunter, Bobbi’s husband. Looks like they’re getting along, but Bobbi, who is this you’ve brought with you?”

The stranger was worrying the brim of his hat between his hands.  

Bobbi grinned. “It’s a friend of a friend of Hunter’s. We picked him up in Edinburgh. He’s quite high up in the railroad…office…engineering…” Bobbi trailed off and waved a hand. “Mr. Stampton? This is Jemma, and her husband Fitz, who I was telling you about.”

Fitz glanced up when Bobbi said his name and Hunter pushed him towards Mr. Stampton. Fitz appeared stunned.

Mr. Stampton looked uncomfortable as he extended a hand to Fitz. “Er, hello.”

“I’ve heard of you, head of the department for engine development for the rail system,” Fitz said. Mr. Stampton looked slightly less uncomfortable.

“I’m here because I was led to believe you might have some ideas that would be beneficial to the company,” he said.

The corner of Fitz’s mouth lifted. “Well, now, I can’t show you everything, but I am intrigued to know if you’ve thought about how the boilers—” Fitz continued to talk as Mr. Stampton seated himself at the table. Retrieving one of his journals from the bookshelf, Fitz sat across from him and began eagerly outlining his theory. The more he talked, the more interested Mr. Stampton appeared.

Jemma served dinner, and everyone ate while Fitz and Mr. Stampton never stopped talking. To Jemma’s satisfaction, Bobbie and Hunter were very complimentary about her rolls.

Afterwards, Hunter hefted Rabbie onto his shoulder and carried the laughing boy out into the late afternoon sunshine. Jemma, Alice, and Bobbi followed.

When Hunter put Rabbie down, the boy immediate started running the best his chubby little legs would let him, racing his shadow towards the fence.

“Have my parents said anything about me?” Jemma asked, and Alice rubbed Jemma’s shoulder.

Bobbi frowned and sighed. “Not really. Your mum thinks you’re dead and has been wearing morning while draping herself over fainting couches and thoroughly enjoying all the attention that having one’s daughter murdered by Scottish thieves brings.”

“I can’t believe…actually, yes I can. And my father?”

“He’s been throwing himself into the management of his estates. I did hear him say, when he was in his cups, to another lord that he thought you weren’t dead but had run off to be some kind of…” Bobbi trailed off.

“Oh, just say it,” Jemma snapped.

“A whore,” Bobbie said. “To make more money for books, and that Lord Whoever should never indulge his daughters if they wish to learn to read or do sums.”

Jemma’s fists clenched.

“Hush,” Alice whispered, leaning close. “You’re a respectable married woman and a mother. I’ve always believed that those who consider themselves quality wouldn’t know it if it bit them in the bum.”

Bobbi crossed her arms. “That’s the truth. Your father’s not chosen who he wishes to pass the title to as of yet, so all your extended family is paying court to him and your mother.”

Her mum would like that. Jemma looked over to where the men were talking, envying Fitz for having such an exciting and scientific conversation while she was gossiping about her parent’s fate.

Bobbi was watching Rabbie tear around the yard. “He looks like a handful,” she said.

Jemma laughed. “He’s a dear, barely bawled while he was teething.”

“You did the right thing, Jemma,” Bobbi said. “I’ve never seen you look so healthy and happy. You were a wild rose wilting in a hothouse, and now with fresh air and sunlight, you’ve blossomed.”

Alice smiled. “She’s done the same for my boy. He was so withdrawn I thought he’d spend his life alone, but with Jemma here he’s really come out of that shell. And if I don’t understand a tenth of what they talk about, well, I most sincerely don’t mind if they continue to give me grandchildren.” She turned a speculative gaze on Jemma. “You are continuing to work on that.”

Jemma’s cheeks warmed. “Ah…most assuredly.”

Bobbi grinned. “It’s the other thing they’re good at besides science.”

****

When it was time for everyone to leave, Mr. Stampton was a very different man than when he arrived. He put his hat back on and shook Fitz’s hand with abandon. “Mr. Fitz,” he said. “It is my pleasure to offer you employment with my office. We’ll pay for you to complete a degree at the University while you’re working part-time, and will accommodate you and your family in the city during that time. It would be a shame to let talent such as yours go to waste.”

Fitz’s mouth dropped open. “I…I…” he stuttered.

“What he means is he accepts,” Jemma said with a smile. Her heart was beating fast with excitement. This was it, Fitz’s chance, and she knew without a single doubt he wanted to take it. “Please have legal documents attesting to your offer drawn up and sent over.”

Mr. Stampton’s eyes darted to her, and he nodded gravely. “Of course, Mrs. Fitz.”

He straightened his hat and turned to go. “Thank you,” Fitz said to Mr. Stampton’s back, who held up a hand in acknowledgement. Fitz gathered Jemma into a hug. He was tense, but she knew him well enough to see that joy was working its way into his surprise and worry.

Rabbi toddled over and tugged on the leg of his father’s trousers. Fitz let of her and scooped Rabbie up, spinning him in a circle while the little boy laughed.

Hunter’s face was smug as he hitched up the horse to his buggy, and Bobbi was all smiles as she hugged everyone goodbye. Fitz looked slightly terrified at the attention.

As the visitors drove away, Jemma stood beside Fitz. Rabbie waved furiously until the horse and buggy were out of sight.

Fitz turned to her, a line between his brows. “What are we going to do about the sheep?”


	9. Uncomfortable

_Ten years later_

Jemma threw her head back and laughed, not caring that she was standing on the pavement beside a busy street in Edinburgh.

Fitz was grinning at her as he swept up their youngest, 4-year-old Thomas, and settled him on his shoulders. Rabbie was a big boy of eleven, which Jemma still couldn’t wrap her mind around. He was keeping a watchful eye on his sister, seven-year-old Emily. Though Emily was never much trouble, she was always as neat as a pin and took pains to do as she’d been told. Jemma found it disconcerting just how much like her Emily was, though her daughter’s blue eyes and light brown curls were all her father’s.

Fitz put an arm around Jemma. It was late spring, and they were standing outside of the house where her friend Daisy was staying. Daisy was American but had been living in Scotland for years. Her parents had come for a visit a few months ago, though it turned out there was an ulterior motive of either convincing Fitz to come to work for the American railroad company Daisy’s father was invested in, or at the very least to get him to consult. There were a lot of unique challenges in stretching the rail lines across the vast continent.

Tonight they were all going for dinner at the hotel a street over. Fitz had earned his degree quickly at the university and easily moved into the job Mr. Stampton had promised, then hastily been promoted. His work was interesting and kept him busy. It provided a decent income that meant they had a townhouse of their own, always enough clothes, food, and coal. Technically, Bobbi even worked for them, though mostly she ran the household, living in a flat on the top floor of the house, and her and Hunter—when he was around—and their daughters were more a part of the family than anything else.

Jemma had even found a way to further her education. She’d been waiting for Fitz on campus with Rabbie in tow and had passed a room where a lecture in biology had just been starting. She’d sat in the very back of the lecture hall and listened. When no one said anything, she’d returned for every lecture, making careful notes though she already was familiar with most of the material. At the end of the term, the professor, a kindly old gentleman, had cornered her and Jemma had been prepared to be told off, but he’d only asked why she’d come to every class.

Jemma had started to explain about waiting for her husband, but the professor had raised an eyebrow, and Jemma had finally given in and said that it was the only chance she had to learn, though she wished the material was more advanced. The professor had started questioning her, testing out her knowledge, and ten minutes later Fitz had found her diagramming out an experiment she wanted to do with horse lungs. The professor had shaken his head, mumbled something about the ridiculousness of society, and offered her a place as an assistant in his lab.

She’d been happily designing and carrying out experiments ever since. The professor had even included her name on the papers produced, as J. Simmons. It was more than she’d ever imagined. Her being in the lab was where Daisy came in. She’d babysat Rabbie, then Emily, and now Thomas as they’d come along.

Jemma tipped her head back and looked up at her husband. His beard was fuller than when she’d first met him, but time had been kind to him, and she adored him as much ever.

He still owned the farm, and his mum still lived there, declaring she had no interest in living in a city ever again. They’d found some cousin of Fitz’s to take over the operation. Deke was a little strange, but Alice adored him, and he’d managed to grow the farm from one small flock to a goodized spread that brought in a decent income.

“Da,” Rabbie asked, scuffing his shoe on the pavement. “Do you think we’ll have dessert tonight?”

Fitz put his hands on his hips. “Is someone trying to get more lemon custard?”

It was Rabbie’s favorite, much to Jemma’s delight.

“Only if you eat all your vegetables,” Emily said.

“Emily,” Rabbie whined.

“They’re good for you,” Emily replied primly.

Jemma shared a look with Fitz as they both fought not to laugh.

“Jemma?” a voice called that was almost familiar. She turned towards the sound. It was an older woman, accompanied by a man, who was walking on the other side of the street. “Jemma, is that you?”

The woman picked up the hem of her dress and hurried across the street. Jemma looked at Fitz, but he shrugged. It wasn’t until the woman was nearly to them that Jemma realized who it was.

“Mother?” she asked.

“Oh my darling, where have you been?” her mother gushed, like she’d been gone ten minutes and not more than a decade. “And who are these people?”

Jemma’s mouth fell open. Her eyes went to the man who’d just crossed the street. “Hello, Papa.”

“I see you’re not dead,” he said.

Beside her, Jemma could feel Fitz bristle. He took Tommy off his shoulders and set the boy down, though he didn’t let go of his hand. Rabbie came to stand on her other side, and Emily peeked between Jemma and Fitz.

Jemma bit back a sigh and squared her shoulders. She and Fitz were respectable, married, and had built a life together. Her parents’ opinion did not matter. “No, I’m doing quite well, actually. Mother, Father, this is my husband, Leopold Fitz, and our children Rabbie, Emily, and Thomas.”

“I’m four,” Tommy said, holding up four little fingers.

Her mother didn’t even look at him. Jemma’s heart sank. “That’s right,” she replied, and Tommy beamed.

Jemma’s mother was studying Rabbie, who looked cross with the inspection.

“And you,” her mother asked Rabbie, “how old are you?”

“Eleven,” he grumbled.

Jemma’s mother frowned, clearly trying to do the math in her head.

“He’d already been conceived when I left,” Jemma said softly. Both her parents darted their eyes to Fitz, who gave Jemma a withering look.

“You stole my daughter?” Jemma’s father asked, sounding more confused than angry.

Fitz frowned. “She’s a person, not a vase.”

Both her parents looked horrified.

“You’re Scottish?” her mother nearly yelped.

Fitz lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair before settling it back on his head. “For a while now. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make. Jemma’s got a mind of her own, a wonderful mind, it’s not like I knocked her out and tossed her over my shoulder.”

“Oh, Jemma.” Her mother wrung her hands. “You could be living in a grand house in London, with a bevy of servants to look after your children, and as many dresses as you could ever want. Why would you give that up to…breed with…” She waved a hand in Fitz’s direction.

Jemma was stunned. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. I’ve very clearly chosen the life I wish to lead.” She took Fitz’s hand, and his fingers clasped hers tightly. “I was hoping, for one golden moment, that you’d be happy to see me and overjoyed to meet your grandchildren. Fitz and I have built a good life together. And I do believe it was just a month ago I read that the girl Ward married was found dead in her chambers.”

Her mother paled, and her father looked away.

“If you would rather I was a corpse than happily married with a loving family, I do not think we should speak again.”

Her mother put a hand over her heart, and her father grimaced.

“You needn’t concern yourself with me,” Jemma said. “Much as you haven’t for years. We are doing quite well for ourselves as you can see and have no intention of ever asking about inheritance or titles, or whatever you might be worried about.” Her parents glanced at each other and Jemma hugged herself, feeling more like a little girl than a mother of three.

There was a hand on her shoulder. She turned, and Fitz pulled her into a hug. Her children joined in.

“Mummy?” Thomas asked.

“Mummy’s just a bit sad,” Fitz said, picking the boy back up so he could give Jemma a proper hug.

Jemma looked over to find that her parents had taken several steps back and were speaking in hushed whispers. She thought she heard something about money, but then the front door of the house she was standing in front of opened and Daisy and her parents, Phil and May, exited.

“Did we miss something?” Daisy asked as Phil eyed Jemma’s parents.

“Not a thing,” Jemma said, extracting herself from Tommy’s arms. “But I could use some dinner right about now, and I bet Rabbie’s insides are hollow.”

“Mum,” he grumped, hunching his shoulders.

“Let’s go then,” May said. “I found a new notebook for Emily, which I’ll give her after dinner.” Emily loved to write, and May was always encouraging it. Emily grinned and took May’s hand.

Jemma herded her family in the direction of the hotel.

Phil fell into step beside Fitz. “The new Westminster bridge is open to traffic now,” he said.

“Quite the marvel,” Fitz replied. And just like that they were off talking about bridge designs, which she knew Phil would turn around into being about railroad bridges that were being constructed in the west.

Jemma refused to look back as she clutched Tommy’s hand in hers. Daisy started chatting about a new style of shoe, for which Jemma was grateful as it allowed her to focus on something besides what had just happened.

Some ghosts belonged in the past.

****

Fitz looked up from the plans for a trestle bridge he was studying, which were going to have to be redone, the weight distribution was wrong, to find Jemma scowling at the piece of paper in front of her.

They were in the library, the children having been tucked into their beds a little while ago because Jemma had said something about needing to work on a research proposal. Only she’d been sitting there for at least ten minutes without putting down a single word.

He sucked in a breath and stood up from his chair, skirting the sofa as he crossed the room to kneel beside her.

“Fitz,” she said with a little laugh.

“My wife looks sad.” He laid his head in her lap and closed his eyes. “And I’m not fond of that. Do you need to talk about earlier?”

Jemma stroked his cheek. “I suppose I’d been imagining that if I ever saw my parents again, they’d be so happy that all past ills would be forgotten.”

“I’m sorry that’s not how it was.”

“I’m sorry they dismissed you.”

Fitz chuckled. “You did sort of let slip the fact I’d been defiling their daughter right under their noses.”

“Defiling? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Uh-huh.” He groaned slightly as her fingers slid into his hair and massaged his scalp.

“Fitz?” He cracked open an eye. Jemma’s cheeks were pink, and she was biting her lip. His pulse beat faster, and heat surged somewhere lower down than his heart.

“I don’t suppose you want to defile me at the moment?”

“I’ll gladly defile you whenever you want.”

She laughed, and he pushed himself upright enough to catch her smiling lips with his.

Jemma returned his kiss as he slowly rose to his feet, her mouth following his. He walked backwards, aiming for the door, but her fingers started yanking his shirt out of his pants and Fitz didn’t want to wait to walk all the way down to where their room was. Not when there was a perfectly serviceable couch at their disposal, even if it was one of those affairs with a slim back and not much cushioning. Why had Jemma wanted the ruddy thing again?

Balancing on one foot, he reached behind himand found the door, kicking it closed.

“Fitz,” Jemma giggled, but her laughter turned into a moan as he hauled her tighter against him and kissed her deeply.

“Can’t wait,” he gasped, his hands grabbing her hips and steering her towards the sofa. He twisted around and sat down on it himself while trying to tug her along with him.

Jemma, as always, proved remarkably unmovable.

“Jems,” he whined, pressing a hand to his trousers over his rapidly hardening cock.  

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have an idea how much this dress cost me? If I let you get too carried away, you’ll maul the front and then where will I be?”

“More naked.”

She snorted, but her hands were rapidly undoing the fastening of her dress. It never failed to impress Fitz just how quickly she could get out of all the fabric society demanded she be swathed in.

Fitz pulled the bracers for his trousers off his shoulders and undid the front, pushing the fabric down to his knees. He fisted his prick and swiped his hand up and down as he watched his wife disrobe. Her shift was the last to go, leaving her in nothing but her stockings and garters. She pulled the pins out of her hair, sending it curling around her shoulders and breasts in dark waves.

It really was his favorite look on her.

She cupped her breasts in her hands.

Nope, that was certainly how she looked best.

Jemma straddled him on the sofa, and he aimed his now fully erect prick for her opening. She sank down with a small cry, and he groaned as her heat enveloped him. He grabbed her ass while she rocked hips.

“I keep getting it wrong,” he gasped.

She paused. “Getting what wrong?” Her nose wrinkled up a little, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

“When it is that my wife looks the most gorgeous.”

“Oh? And what is currently winning?” She put her arms loosely around his neck.

“Mmm, you riding my cock.”

“That’s entirely what I suspected. It’s as if I know you, husband.” She leaned back, and her eyelashes swept closed, but then she stopped and peered at herself. She stroked a breast. “Though I do remember when these sat a little higher, and I didn’t have...” Her hand dropped lower to trace over silvery marks left on her stomach from the babes she’d carried.

Fitz was sure he was supposed to reassure her, even if she was spouting nonsense, but it was bloody difficult to think when he was inside her.

“My prick likes you,” he said, then winced. “Um, I mean—”

She giggled. “I’m rather fond of it as well.”

“You’re pretty,” he tried again. There, all better. He tugged at Jemma’s rear to get her to move.

She raised and lowered herself, slowly, watching his face. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He grinned, pleased to have said the correct thing.

“Thank you for so much. For so many wonderful days, and lovely children, and a whole life with more love in it than I could have ever dreamed of.” Jemma’s eyes looked misty.

Uh-oh. Not what Fitz had been going for. He must not be doing things right. “I’m overjoyed you like our life together, because I know I’m very fond of it, and you. I love you, wife, but at the moment I was hoping to please you in another way.” He pressed on her bottom to get her to raise up higher on her knees.

She moved how he wanted as she laughed. “You always please me, Fitz.”

“Good.” He was able to thrust now and started lifting his hips to meet hers.

Jemma tilted her head back and moaned.

Fitz congratulated himself on getting things back on track. Grabbing the back of the sofa with one hand, Jemma dropped the other down to rub her clit.

The sound of their bodies colliding was loud and the perfect amount of obscene.

Jemma’s eyes were closed, and she was whimpering slightly with his every stroke. Her thighs quivered against his. Dear lord, this was when she looked best, when she was about to be overtaken by bliss.

“Fitz,” she moaned, and then made a startled yelp as she came. He didn’t stop moving, knowing she much preferred to feel him thrusting steadily while she was in the throes of passion. The pulsing of her channel eased, and she opened her eyes. “That was lovely, though I do think I could do with one more.

“Goddess,” he grunted and sped up, pushing harder with each plunge. Jemma bit her lip, and her face took on a fierce look of concentration. She rode him hard, the couch rocking with their combined efforts. Maybe they’d break the damned thing and could get a more accommodating one.

His pleasure built steadily as he pistoned his hips. Jemma’s eyes were closed again as she rolled her pelvis.

“Oh,” she gasped, her channel tightening around his cock. “Fitz, I’m—”

“So am I,” he rasped. His gut tightened and rutted faster into her. The inarticulate sound of enjoyment she made spurred him on. His hands tightened on her ass, and his hips snapped forward as ecstasy rushed through him from where they were joined.

His groan of pleasure turned into a yell as the couch toppled over backwards. The landing was jarring, but Jemma was still connected to him, and the abrupt motion had driven his cock hard into her. She keened as she came, her hips jerking and her fingers digging into his chest.

She was glorious. This was absolutely her best look.

Panting, she opened her eyes and frowned. “Why are we on the floor?”

“The couch tipped over.” Fitz grinned at her absolute confusion.

“When did that happen?”

“Right before your climax.”

She pursed her lips and turned her head left and right to look at the sofa. “It thankfully seems to be in one piece.”

“Drat,” he muttered.

Jemma snorted and scrambled to her feet, helping him up as well. He restored the unfortunately intact couch to its regular place after pulling up his trousers.

Jemma stole his shirt and slipped it on before picking up her dress and underthings. “I suppose we should go to bed.”

He smiled and cupped her cheek. “Earlier I meant to tell you that you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, no matter how long we’re together, nothing will ever come close.”

“You are the sweetest, Fitz. I am very happy it is you I will grow old with.”

He rubbed at his back which was smarting from landing on the floor. “Did it have to be so bloody soon?”

****

Was this Fitz’s sock or Rabbie’s? Jemma frowned at the piece of clothing in her hand. They both had a talent for getting holes in their footwear, but she thought this one was slightly smaller and therefore probably Rabbie’s.

How had her son gotten so big? Hadn’t she had him yesterday?

“I find darning the sock mends it faster than glaring at it,” Bobbi said from where she was sitting. “But tell me if it works.” Bobbi was letting out the hem of one of her daughter’s dresses. Both girls were shooting up like weeds. Much like their father, they were a handful.

Secretly, Jemma thought Emily being such fast friends with them was a good thing and kept her daughter from hiding away as Jemma had so often done at her age.

Jemma and Bobbi were on the second floor of the townhouse, in a sitting room that overlooked the back garden. The windows were thrown open and fresh air, and sunlight filled the room.

Jemma was sitting with Bobbi for a chat. May and Daisy had taken the children out for sweets, and the menfolk were off to watch a steeplechase. Fitz had tried to convince her to go, but a loud crowd had not been very interesting. And, much like the sewing, it was more a chance for the fellows to talk. They’d have a pint or two after the races and probably complain about their wives, then be home in time for supper.

Bobbi looked up from her sewing as Jemma threaded her darning needle. “I have a bit of news,” Bobbi said.

Jemma leaned forward. “Do tell.”

“Hunter found out about this last night from some bloke he knows who works at one of the local gentleman’s clubs.” Hunter always knew a bloke. “But I thought after that terrible reunion with your parents last week that you would want to hear this.”

“Do tell.” Jemma abandoned her sewing and leaned forward. She’d struggled not to be anxious about her parents unexpectedly showing back up, but she knew she’d somewhat failed in that endeavor. At least she was reasonably certain they wouldn’t try to drag her out of her house. And her children being half-Scottish most likely meant she didn’t need to be concerned about her parents wanting to cart one of them off as an heir either.

It still made her steaming mad how her mother had looked at Tommy’s little cherub face and pointedly ignored him.

“Well,” Bobbi said. “It seems that your parents have not had as much luck these last ten years as you have. Your father made some bad investments, your mother spent lavishly, and now they don’t have the deep coffers they once did.” Bobbi smirked.

“And?”

“And they’re selling the country manor here in Scotland.”

Jemma gasped.

Bobbi looked like the cat that ate the canary. “I had Hunter do a little more poking. They need it sold quickly, and you’re not going to believe what they’re willing to let it go for.”

The price was indeed much lower than Jemma had been expecting.

The little town where the farm was still felt like home. They all traveled there to squish into the cottage and spend the holidays with Fitz’s mum, and there were frequent trips just to let the children run and play.

Bobbi leaned back and picked up her sewing. “It’d be nice to get out of the city.” She glanced shrewdly at Jemma. “Are you still hoping for another child?”

“I’m content with the blessings I have.” She frequently admonished herself to be happy that she’d had three healthy children her were all still living, but there was a little sadness in thinking she might be done with the baby-having part of her life.

“Jemma, are you trying to lie to me?” Bobbi raised a somewhat scary eyebrow.

“Er, no. I mean yes. I mean that yes, we are still hoping for another.”

“Ah, I thought that was thumping I heard from the library last night. And howling.”

Jemma made a face. Oh dear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We did knock over the sofa.”

“Did it break?” Bobbi asked with what Jemma though was entirely too much hope in her voice. Why was Jemma the only one who liked it? It wasn’t very comfortable, but the lines of the back went well with the bookcases.

“No,” she said pointedly.

“And how did it get knocked over?”

Jemma poked at the sock in her hands. “You weren’t supposed to ask that.”

Bobbi laughed. “You and Fitz are entirely too predictable, though I think I might be impressed you’re now trying to destroy furniture together.

“We are still very much in love, and we do still enjoy each other physically.”

Bobbi looked heavenward. “My point is that I don’t see that coming to an end anytime soon.” Bobbi glanced out the window. “But this place…it’s getting more crowded and the air…” Bobbi trailed off with a shake of her head. “And it’s time for Hunter to slow down. His daughters are going to be grown before he knows it.” She sighed. “And I’d like one more little one too.”

Jemma nodded. She couldn’t voice her fear that she might not have another baby, though Tommy was four. It’d taken her that long to have Emily, but she’d been younger then and it had felt like there was more time. Perhaps rolling hills, green grass, and fresh air might be just what she needed. “I miss home,” Jemma said. “I’m willing to bet the railroad will pay Fitz no matter where we live. If we sell this house and Fitz officially starts consulting for Coulson…oh, Bobbi, it’d be wonderful.”

“I know,” Bobbi said with a soft smile.

Jemma inched towards the edge of her chair, barely able to contain herself. “Will the boys be home soon?”


	10. Full Circle

There were sheep on his lawn.

Fitz had yet to figure out how he had a lawn. He swept his cap off his head and clutched it in his hands as he looked up at the rather large home he owned. The one that he’d once waited for Jemma to sneak out of.

Back then he’d hated it for being the walls that’d kept them apart. Now those same walls would contain his family and keep them safe. You never could guess where life would lead you.

Jemma was standing on the front steps, playing a general as she directed the men carrying their belongings from wagons into the house. Fitz hoped the extra coin he’d paid the fellows with the cart containing the highly uncomfortable library sofa wouldn’t be intimidated by her and still stuff the bloody thing into the far corner of the attic, where no one would have to sit on it ever again.

Bobbi was minding the children, Hunter was about somewhere, and Deke and Alice had shown up. Which probably explained the sheep. His mum was going to move in with them, which Fitz liked to think was because of him, but was more likely because she doted on her grandchildren.

There was a soft whine from beside him. Fitz grinned and bent down to scratch behind Toby’s ears. “Hey, old boy.” The dog closed his eyes at the petting and leaned against Fitz. Toby’s muzzle was white, and he’d long been retired from sheep herding, but he was still a faithful companion. Jemma would probably spoil him rotten.

“I’m glad you’re here,” his mum said, coming to stand beside him.

“I never could have imagined…” he trailed off and waved vaguely at the house.

“I either, but you’ve done well for yourself.” Alice smiled as Jemma shouted orders at a porter. “And I dare say your wife seems to be in her element.”

“She does like being in charge.”

His mum snorted. “I sent Deke out with the men from your office to see about where they can run the rail lines. I gather you must be important if they’re planning on bringing your work to you.”

Fitz straightened up and took his mum’s elbow to guide her towards a nearby bench. “I think they’re happy to keep me. Jemma and I talked a great deal about going to San Francisco once the war is over in the states—”

“Selfishly, I find myself rather relieved you didn’t do that. I wouldn’t have held it against you, but it is an awful long way to the other side of the world.”

“I think Jemma would have liked to go,” he said. “And maybe if it were just us, we would have. Traveling and seeing the world with good company.” Fitz shrugged. “But there’s the little ones. And this way she’s thumbing her nose at her parents and everyone that would look down on her for choosing to do what she did.”

His mum patted his back. “You two falling in love was the best thing that’s ever happened. Even if all you had now were a mean cottage and a tiny flock, you’d still be rich.”

Fitz tilted his head back to look up at the sky. It was a pale blue with a few thin clouds. Toby put his head on Fitz’s knee. He patted the dog. “I still think about all the ways I might never have met Jemma.”

The older he got, the more of a miracle it seemed that she was even in his life. He could have dozed off by his fire and not seen her. She could have run somewhere else to cry. 

“Well, thank goodness nothing of the sort happened.”

A troop of cowed-looking gardeners passed, mumbling something about what the Lady wanted with the hedges and fountain.

Oh, brilliant. He had a fountain now. Handy if he needed to make a wish.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confessed to his mum.

“None of us ever do. When you're young, you think you’ll grow up and have all the answers. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I think Jemma might have them.”

Alice laughed. “I said all the answers, but I do think she has more than most.” She patted his shoulder again. “Now tell me what my grandbabies have been up to.”

****

_A Few Weeks Later_

“Mummy!” Tommy said excitedly.  His little hands were clasped around who knew what as he came running to where Jemma was sitting on the blanket Fitz had spread out to have a picnic on. “Look what I found!” He opened his cupped fingers a tiny bit, and she peeked in to see a very bewildered lizard. “Isn’t he pretty?”

The lizard was brown with a dark stripe and shining black eyes. “He’s lovely.”

“What kind is he?”

Fitz had glanced up from the book he was reading and was making a face.

“ _Lacerta vivipara_ ,” she answered Tommy. “One of the few reptiles in Scotland.”

“Do you want to see, Da?”

Fitz shook his head. “I’ll take your mum’s word that he’s a right handsome fellow.”

“Now go find a sunny rock for him and let him be,” Jemma instructed, and Tommy diligently went looking. She started putting the dishes back in the hamper.

They were sitting under the spreading branches of a tree. Their tree, to be exact, which stood in the field Fitz had once tended sheep in. It felt as if that had been eons ago, or maybe yesterday.

Dishes stowed, she glanced at Fitz. Had it really been here, on this spot, that they’d conceived their first child?

Rabbie was riding his new pony with Emily sitting behind him, making circuits of the field, but no faster than a trot because otherwise Emily would get frightened. Rabbie was getting tall enough they’d need to get him a horse soon, and the pony would be passed on to Tommy. Though mostly the pony was good company for old Tullie, who’d been retired as well and was now a pasture ornament, which the gentle mare more than deserved.

Emily hadn’t found the right pony yet. She wanted a white one. Mack was on the lookout as he saw the entire country’s horse population whenever they needed shoes, and he doted on Emily, so Jemma was certain a docile, white pony would be in the stables before much longer.

Jemma had a list she was making in her lap. She’d claimed an old outbuilding as hers—it had been a kennel before her parents had owned the property—and was gutting it and turning it into a lab. The professor she’d worked with in Edinburgh had retired and was sending her a great deal of the equipment from his lab so that she could continue her research. Currently, Jemma was figuring out what she needed to do to be ready for its arrival.

Fitz tossed aside his reading and lay down on his back. “I think this is my favorite place in the world.”

Jemma scooted over until she was sitting next to him before putting the papers she was holding down as well. She laid a hand on his chest. “It is wonderful to have come full circle.”

“Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

She poked his ribs, and he grunted. “I need something more specific, or I’ll assume you mean for all the times I made you eat your vegetables.”

“I wonder where Emily gets it from.”

“Fitz!” She poked him again, but this time he caught her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

“And I mean for everything, Jemma. For being you, the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and probably the brightest. For believing in me when I had nothing. For bringing our children into the world. For being my friend. For making wherever we live a home.” He tugged at her wrist, and she lay beside him, her head on his shoulder. He was still holding her hand, his fingers now intertwined with hers. “Do you remember the story about my stealing the book when I was fourteen?”

“Yes, though that story was a great deal funnier before our son was nearing that age.”

Fitz cracked an eye open to glare at her. “I was much more grown-up than Rabbie at the same age. As long as you don’t ask my mum.”

Jemma laughed. “I’m sure. Go ahead.”

He settled back down, and she waited.

“I was so despondent back then. I seemed to be headed meaningless and dreary life. Then we got the farm, and it was much better than the docks, but I had started to believe I was meant to be alone. That I’d grow old with the sheep in the pastures.” He heaved a sigh, and his face was troubled, but then he smiled. “But then you came along and chased the clouds away, and I’ve been blessed ever since.”

Jemma kissed his cheek. “I shudder to think about all the paths we did not take. Though knowing you as well as I do now, I’m surprised you followed me down beside the creek.”

“You were very pretty.”

Jemma laughed again. “Ah, I can see what part of your anatomy I should be thanking.”

Fitz turned his head to look at her. “Send the children home, and you can thank it all you want.” He let go of her hand to brush his fingers across her cheek. The shade beneath the tree seemed to get a great deal warmer. Fitz leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

“Do you have to do that?” said a disgusted sounding voice. Fitz rolled his eyes and flopped backwards.

Jemma sat up to look at her son, who was still on his pony. “Yes, Rabbie. And there’s no one to see.”

“Except me,” he said, dramatically placing his hand over his heart like a society matron.

“They’re married,” Emily piped up from behind her brother. “That’s what married people do.” She paused. “I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”

“Me either,” Rabbie said, wrinkling his nose.

“My wife will be like Mum and like bugs and stuff,” Tommy declared, returning from exploring the field.

“It’s an admirable quality in a wife,” Fitz said. “She should know how to run a house and like bugs.”

Rabbie heaved a huge sigh.

Fitz crossed his legs at the ankle. “Rabbie, why don’t you take your brother and sister and trot back home. Make sure your pony is stabled correctly, I’ll check, and then go find Bobbi. Aunt Daisy sent lemons from the city, and maybe Bobbi will let you try the custard before it’s set. Mum and I will bring the hamper back in a bit.”

Rabbie’s eyes lit up at the mention of food. “C’mon, Tommy.” Rabbie lifted his brother up to sit on the pony in front of him. The pony didn’t seem to mind in the least. Rabbie turned it towards the woods.

“Bye!” Emily called, waving at Jemma and Fitz. Jemma waved back.

Once they were through the tree line, Jemma glanced at Fitz, who was grinning.

“I’m never going to forget how you woke me up under this tree while I was napping.” He reached out and tugged at her dress. “Off, if it pleases you, Miss Jemma.”

“It does please me, but not nearly as much as what we’re about to do.”

She stood, but Fitz didn’t budge, just put his hands behind his head as he watched her attack her lacings.

“Speaking of Emily, I caught her playing teacher and having Bobbi’s girls do sums again,” he said.

Jemma snorted. “Do I need to say something to her?”

He shook his head. “I believe there were also some plans being made for a stealthy kitchen attack to look for coffee cake, which I may or may not have played a role in.”

“I thought there were two loaves.” Jemma had at last gotten enough of her fastening loosened that she was able to drop the dress to the ground. Her shoes, stocking, and knickers followed. Leaving her shift on, she walked over to her husband. That he was appreciative was obvious from the state of the front of his trousers.

She straddled him and knelt down, her shift bunching up between them. Fitz ran the fingers of one hand along her thigh, then skimmed up her side to cup her breast through the gauzy material. He swept his thumb across her nipple, and she moaned. Swiveling her hips, Jemma kept her eyes on Fitz’s pleased face as she ground against him.

“Do you still want another baby?” he asked.

She paused. “Well, yes, but why do you ask?”

“Because if you didn’t I was going to have you use your mouth on me for old time’s sake, and then fall asleep.”

She slapped his chest. “You know what they say about a happy wife?”

“That I won’t end up with horrible food poisoning?”

“Fitz!” she scolded, then yelped as he bowled her over onto her back. He ended up kneeling between her spread thighs.

He shed his jacket and pulled his shirt from his trousers. “I’ve already had more happiness than I think is usually allotted to a single person, and I hope it continues for all the years I am given.” He tugged his bracers from his shoulders and stripped his shirt.  Jemma drank him in. Her Fitz, who she’d fallen in love with under this same tree on a warm summer night. He undid his trousers and shoved them down his legs, fisting his cock and stroking it as he looked at her. “Doesn’t matter if we ever have another, Jems. Our family’s complete and our days full.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m certainly not full enough.”

“You’re wicked; you know that? And whatever the results, you know I don’t mind practicing with baby making all you want.” He reached for her, but she scooted away, laughing.

He frowned and made another grab for her leg, but she evaded again. She rolled onto her hands and knees, then looked over her shoulder at Fitz as she pulled her shift up over her rear. “Since we’re as the beasts in the field, we should perhaps act as they do?”

“I change my earlier admonishment to very wicked.” Fitz’s hand seized her hip as he situated himself behind her. He swept a finger over her sex which he followed by placing the head of his cock at her opening. With a rough buck of his hips, he thrust inside her.

Jemma braced her hands on the blanket as he started a rolling rhythm. Arching her spine, she pushed back into his plunges.

“Do you remember the first time we did this, you taking me from behind, and how you didn’t want to at first?” Jemma panted.

“I believe you persuaded me in the same fashion. And I was an idiot.” She moaned as he stroked forcefully into her. On the next thrust, he slapped her rear, making her gasp. “You could at least attempt to argue with me.”

“You’d have to be wrong for me to do that.”

Fitz grunted, then pulled out of her. Jemma started to apologize, but he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her up. He kissed her neck as he shuffled them around to face the tree. “Put your hands on it,” he whispered in her ear. She did as she was told, and Fitz thrust back inside her, but now he was moving against her back, and his hands were free.

He kneaded her breast with one, and after tugging her shift to one side to bare her shoulder, he slid the other down to rub at her clit.

“Practice does make perfect,” she said between panted breaths.

Fitz chuckled, but then he kissed the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck and Jemma found she’d run out of words. Her body quivered as her climax built. The kisses on her throat moved until Fitz was mouthing the nape of her neck. She moaned, and her head bowed forward.

Moving a little faster, Fitz made a noise close to a growl. Jemma whimpered as he pressed his teeth against her in an open-mouthed bite.  

Her whole world became her husband as he moved relentlessly inside her. Her legs quivered, and she let out a high-pitched gasp as she peaked. The bliss was overwhelming, and she jerked her hips as much as she could, though Fitz’s hands and teeth were keeping her in place.

When she sagged against the tree with a groan, he let go of her with his mouth, though he pressed a few lingering kisses to her neck. Jemma thought she might be required to wear unfashionable high collars for a few days.

Fitz was making the small noises that she knew meant he was close, and she groped behind her with a hand, finding his bum and pulling him against her with each stroke.

With a rough grunt, he came, pushing her hard against the tree as he plunged one last time into her. His cock bucked as he spent himself, and Jemma dearly hoped that making love with him here, under their tree in their field, would bring them as much good fortune as it had before.

When Fitz dropped to lie on the ground, Jemma cuddled up beside him, her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat as it slowed to normal.

They stayed that way until the shadows started to stretch out across the grass.

“I supposed we should get home before someone comes looking for us,” Jemma said, retrieving her clothes and dressing as Fitz put himself to rights and folded up their blanket and draped it over her arm. Fitz carried the hamper.

He offered her his elbow. “Shall we?” Jemma linked her arm with his, and they ambled towards home. “I can hardly tell you the joy of walking back to the manor with you. It’s all I wanted back when this field was full of nothing but sheep and dreams.”

“Oh, Fitz, it was all I wanted too. To spend my days and nights with you. And now you and our family. If anyone asked, I would tell them that sometimes, dreams do come true.”

****

_Nine Months Later_

Fitz sat stiffly on a small chair, staring at the door to the room where Jemma was pushing a new life into the world.

“Biscuit?” Mack said, holding one out to Fitz.

He shook his head and dropped it into his hands. “Shouldn’t this get easier?”

“I’ll have one,” Hunter said, taking five from the tin. “Elena is amazing at making these.” He patted Fitz’s back as he ate.

“It has gotten easier,” Mack said, chewing on a gingersnap. “She’s only been in there a couple of hours, and Elena said ten minutes ago that it wouldn’t be much longer.

“That was only ten minutes ago?” Fitz hunched over, but then straightened up and looked at where his children were. Rabbie was sitting on the floor, reading a book. Emily was in a window seat, writing in a notebook, and Tommy was fast asleep, lying with his head on Toby, who was also sleeping. The old dog was much beloved by all the children and was getting pudgy from all the table scraps they, and Jemma, sneaked him.

“Tell us about your new project,” Hunter said. Fitz snorted because Hunter couldn’t care less, but was being a friend and trying to distract him. When Bobbi had been in labor Hunter had been a wreck, and Fitz had been the one to sit with him and be reassuring.

Hunter was still a bit of mystery, but now, with living in the country, he stuck close to home and doted on all his girls. Bobbi had taken the two of them into town to shop as Daisy, May, and Phil were due for a visit within the week, and she was going to very surprised when she came back to find the baby had shown up while she was gone.

Fitz had just opened his mouth to start boring Hunter and Mack with a description of his latest idea when his mum opened the door. She was all smiles. “Come see your new little one.”

Fitz scrambled to his feet. “Already?”

“Easy as pie.”

“No screaming this time,” Mack said, handing Rabbie a biscuit, who immediately shoved the entire thing into his mouth.

Emily wrapped her fingers around Fitz’s, and they walked into the room. Jemma was cuddling the new arrival, and it hardly looked as if she’d just given birth.

“Come see your new sister,” she said to her other children, and they eagerly stampeded towards her and crawled onto the bed. Jemma winced slightly, and Fitz was careful as he perched beside her.

“She’s tiny!” Tommy said, peering down at the baby.

“You used to be tiny too.” Rabbie pushed at this brother’s shoulder. “Can I hold her?” Rabbie sat cross-legged on the bed, and Jemma handed him his sister. He held her tenderly. “Ain’t nobody ever going to hurt you.”

Fitz put an arm around Jemma, who looked close to tears.

“What’s her name?” Emily asked.

“Alice, after your grandmother,” Jemma replied.

Emily nodded. “Very sensible.”

Fitz shook his head at her and Jemma laughed.

“I’m very glad you think so.” Jemma squeezed his knee.

“Here,” Fitz said to Rabbie, holding out his arms. Rabbie carefully handed her over, and Fitz cuddled her close. Her hair was lighter than the others, and there was quite a bit of it. She had wide eyes that looked very much like her mum’s. He was enchanted.

“Hello, Alice,” he whispered to her. He glanced up at Jemma, finding that the others had snuggled against her and Tommy was sitting on her lap. His entire heart in one place. Happiness filled him from head to toe. Life was beautiful. And there was a new prototype engine he was set to work on next week when the parts arrived.

“I love you,” he said to Jemma.

“And I love you.” She smiled. Rabbie rolled his eyes.

He touched his new daughter’s soft cheek. “I wish you a bonnie life.”

 

**~Fin~**

Image by the wonderful @whistlingwindtree, manips (Jemma and Fitz) by @memorizingthedigitsofpi) Thank you! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I had a really good time with this fic, from the start to the end, and I hope you enjoyed the ride as well! Feel free to drop me a line here or on Tumblr, I'd love to hear from you whether it's been 10 seconds, 10 days, 10 months, or 10 years (or longer!) since this was first posted! 
> 
> -SunAlso, 9/4/18, my kitchen table-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking out my fic! I hope you enjoy, and I love hearing from readers. I'm @sunalsolove on tumblr, and will post update notifications there. 10 planned chapters, updates on Tuesdays.


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